Sin of Lycaos
by D.M.P
Summary: September 2001 Winner of the Golden Quill Award for Drama! During the GoF, Lupin wanders the Muggle world and becomes guilty of a crime with which there is no redemption... A story of faith, love, prejudice, and sacrifice.
1. Damnation

Title: Sin of Lycaos

Author Name: D.M.P.

Author E-mail: book_worm6@hotmail.com

Category: Angst/Darkfic

Keywords: Remus Lupin, Werewolf, Registry, GoF

Rating: Strongly rated PG-13 for swearing, implied violence, and adult situations.

Spoilers:  All the books, especially GoF

Summary: Often in life, situations occur that are entirely out of one's control.  During the Goblet of Fire, Remus Lupin commits a crime that leads to questions he had never encountered before.  Was this incident fate or poor judgment?  How can he live with the consequences of his actions?  Is there a way can he escape the prejudiced wrath of the Ministry?  He must struggle to discover an answer because, for the very first time he finds himself branded a criminal… and a father.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  Also, Part 1, Chapter 2, includes an insert from the essay Ways of the Werewolf by Nate Wolfe.

Author's Note: I would like to thank the following people: Flourish, PikaCheeka, Joltz, Don, all my reviewers and all the silent readers. On a minor note, this fic contains D.M.P. fanon a.k.a. Lupin's back story is mine.  On a major note, I started writing this before _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ came out, and that is the only reason why I call the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures: Beast Division, the Registry of Magical Creatures.

September 2001 Winner of the Golden Quill Award for Drama 

Site URL: http://tgqa.net/Quill.html

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part One: Damnation

by D.M.P.

***

The Almighty Zeus tasted the meat and found it was the flesh of a child. Overcome with outrage, he addressed the king, "Thou dare serve the god a plate of thy's own flesh and blood?" 

The king, frightened and bewildered, said nothing in his defense. He had slain the boy and given the flesh to Zeus only out of jest and curiosity, for none but the gods can recognize the taste of man's flesh.

"Unspeakable cruelty dwells within your soul!" Zeus declared. "Child slayer! Foul monster! Thou art not a man, but a beast!"

And with this declaration, the king of Arcadia and his companions were changed into wolves....

- "Myth of the Lykanthropos"

***

Prologue

_Nighttime. Something howled from afar, a savage call. It echoed through the small, dark room. He stared out the window. The forest was a black hulk sitting on the horizon. If he squinted his eyes and looked at where the black forest met the outskirts of town, he could have sworn that a slinking figure was sitting there, staring right back at him._

_Remmy shuddered. He never saw anything come out of that forest at night. In the day, he sometimes saw young deer or the occasional sparkle of fairies, but when darkness fell, the woods were usually quiet. He shivered again and pulled the bed sheets closer around him. _

_"I won't let you go, sire, I kin't!"_

_A voice from downstairs. What was going on? Slipping out of his bed, he went into the hall._

_"I know you may be concerned, but there is no need to worry. I have it all taken care of," someone answered. It was his father, the only family he ever knew. He had a mother of course, but she had died so long ago that he barely remembered her. She was the furthest thought from Remmy's mind as he eavesdropped on the conversation. _

_The young boy looked over the banister towards the living room, then crept down the stairs and paused at the doorway before sneaking in. Two men's voices were heard loud and clear. _

_"He's crazy, sire. He's been crazy fo' years, ev'r since takenin' that babe's life." Murphy sounded hushed and worried, his gruff voice taking an higher pitch than normal._

_"I wouldn't need to fear him then. Someone as insane as Lycaos should be easy to handle," Father replied confidently. Remmy smiled to himself from his hiding place behind the couch. He never knew his dad acting otherwise._

_"But Lycaos' not a man, no more - he ain't, sire! Takin' a human life- he's a demon, sire, a demon! Livin' like the beast he is, I reckon, out in them forests. He's a savage one; you kin't face him!"_

_Father smiled and clasped his hand onto the elderly man's shoulder. "Murphy," he told the manservant gently, "I have to take the job. The mayor of Hogsmeade personally requested that I go out to put the devil out of his misery once and for all. Lycaos has been a threat to this town for years and it's time that we did something about it."_

_"But alone, sire?" Murphy pleaded. "Yer can't go all by yerselves; it's too dangerous! Least take me wth yer!"_

_"And me too!" Remmy called out. He gasped at his sudden outburst and knew he was caught. "Oops," he murmured as his father leaned over the couch to look down at his son._

_"Remmy," Father said sternly, "You know I told you to go to bed half an hour ago." He was already dressed for work. Dark clothes, with a thick leather vest and knee-high boots. Around his neck a silver cross hung on a slim chain. On his back was a quiver of bow and arrows, and slung on his belt was a variety of vials and bags. His ebony wand was tucked in his hand._

_"But I couldn't sleep!" Remmy protested. "And I want to go too! Who's Lycaos?"_

_"Lycaos is nun of yer busnuss," Murphy said quickly. "Now off to bed with yer, young'un. 'Tis close to the witchin' hour, yer know!" He gently put both hands on Remmy's shoulders and began to scoot him out of the room. Remmy broke away and addressed his father. "Please?" he asked sweetly, giving his best sad little puppy dog look._

_Father chuckled and shook his head. "Murphy's right. It's too dangerous."_

_Remmy sighed. "You always say that," he whined._

_"Because I'm always right." Father winked at him, then in one quick move, gathered his son up into his arms. "Now off to bed!"_

_"Hey!" Remmy objected but let him carry him back up the stairs. He leaned his head against his father's shoulder. His rough beard tickled Remmy's cheek. "When can I ever go with you?" he asked sulkily._

_"When you're older," his father reassured him. "But right now, it's time for you to go to sleep." Placing him gently on the bed, he wrapped the covers over Remmy. "Good night," he whispered, kissing his son on the forehead. _

_Remmy turned over on his side away from his father, still angry at being refused._

_Father shook his head. "My work isn't for little children, Remmy," he explained._

_"I'm not little! I'm almost," - he counted on his fingers - "seven and a half!" Remmy declared stubbornly. He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his lower lip. "No fair!"_

_"I promise you that I'll take you out into the meadows tomorrow," Father compromised. "I saw a unicorn with her foal there other day, and if you're nice and quiet, you might be able to see them."_

_Remmy groaned inwardly. Unicorns were for babies. But Father hardly ever showed him aspects of his work, and Remmy would take any chance he could get. "Okay..." he agreed reluctantly._

_"Good." Father patted the top of his head. "See you in the morning."_

_Remmy sighed as he heard his father close the door. It just wasn't fair! He knew he could take care of himself! Why did Father always have to treat him like a kid? _Well, I'll show him,_ Remmy thought to himself. _I'm not a baby anymore....

Twenty-nine years later....

Chapter 1

_Ssscccrrreeeeeeee..._

The sound of the train stopping was what woke him up. Lupin groggily lifted his head up to see the passengers around him. The train came to a full stop, the ride over all too soon. Fairview Station, the last stop on the route. People started grabbing their bags, their coats, hands of their little children. After this stop, everyone had to leave before the new passengers.

Near the back of the last passenger car, Lupin sat staring out through the window. He could tell it was cold outside, for the heat of the cabin had created a layer of steam upon the windows. He rubbed a circle into the pane, and the steam filled it back up in less than a minute. It must be freezing out there. 

Lupin didn't want to leave his seat. He could remain just until the other passengers leave. If he was lucky he could hang back and probably stay onboard from another hour or so. He could get off when the train comes to the next station on its new route back to Norwich. For if he left this train now, he might not have anywhere else to sleep for the next couple days. 

Hitching rides like this was how he lived. It gave him something to keep his mind on, traveling from one station to the next. He didn't have a permanent home nor the money to buy one anyhow. Trains always did have a certain appeal to him by far. At least it gave him time to think by himself and was far safer than Apparating from place to place, which was altogether pointless since he never had a destination to Apparate to.

Sure, he could always wander from town to town by foot as usual, but autumn was here, and the cold was fierce at night. He didn't want to spend another night outside; the last time he did, he woke up with a layer of frost covering his clothes. A tell-tale sign that he'd have to find a more sheltered home before winter snows came. Yet he wondered if he should bother finding shelter for this winter. Surviving with himself didn't seem too appealing. 

The other passengers shuffled past him. All Muggles, for this was a Muggle train. Lupin wished he could have called the Knight Bus for a ride, but then again, when did the Knight Bus allow such passengers as himself to board? He didn't have a particular destination to go anyway and hadn't enough money to pay the fee. But those beds would be nice; Lupin would give anything to sleep in a bed again.

A mother was helping her son down the aisle, and when her back was turned, she accidentally bumped into him. She turned her head slightly, and an automatic, "Sorry," brushed past her lips. Then, she saw the man she was addressing and abruptly ushered herself and her son out of the car. Even Muggles could tell how different he was. The unspeakable curse seemed to hover over him like a cloud. 

Sometimes, during the years Lupin had wandered the Muggle world, he would just sit in street corners and watch them rush past, all ignorant of how fortunate they were. How much they didn't have to know. And he wished during those times that he was an ignorant Muggle too, that he didn't have to have anything to do with magic or wizardry or his condition.

The conductor was coming around, checking for stowaways and freeloaders. He stopped at the last seat. Looking at him, the conductor gave a firm look and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Time to go.

Lupin silently got up, stretched, and headed out to the exit, grabbing his shabby black case before he left. The conductor sighed as he watched the man leave. _Another bum just sent back to the streets,_ he thought.

Outside, an icy wind blew as he stepped off the train. Lupin tightened his shabby jacket around himself. He was right. It was as cold as hell.

Slipping into the throng of Muggles, he wandered along the train station platform until he spotted a bench to sit on. Lowering himself down, he gazed at the mass of Muggles in front of him. Look at them go. Places to be, homes to go to, families to love. He sighed, then chided himself. 

_Stop pitying yourself_, Lupin thought bitterly. _Nothing will come of it._ He hated when he did that. Wallowing in despair was something that he tried not to do. The only thing the ever came with grief was more grief. If he let himself become depressed again, he was afraid that he might never come out of it.

He put a hand to his neck and felt the slim steel chain. Tracing his hand over the chain, his fingers touched warm metal. He lifted the necklace up over his shirt. A silver cross hung there, white light reflecting off its surface. Strung next to the crucifix was a pair of dog tags, the type that military folk wore. His name and registration number was stamped into the metal. Remus J. Lupin. Number 4765 at the Registry of Magical Creatures.

Dog tags for the werewolf. How ironic. Lupin had gotten the set a few years back, thinking that if anything happened to him, at least his identity wouldn't be unknown. But if someone found him in his other form, they would have wondered who would keep a pet wolf.

A dry chuckle escaped for Lupin's lips as he let the chain drop back under his shirt. The wind blew hard against him, and he shivered. He would have to go into town and find a place to stay. Too bad this station wasn't at a big city; a homeless shelter would have been wonderful. However, in this rustic countryside the villages were too small to provide shelters for the poor. 

Where was he anyway? A crumpled railway map lay on the bench, and Lupin picked it up. Smoothing out the paper, Lupin checked the railway schedule. A train that was heading to Cambridge would stop by here in a day or so. Cambridge wasn't so bad; at least it wasn't as far as London. Maybe he'd head over there later. 

He followed the colored lines down the map to the last stop, where he was. Havenshire. It was a small village, just fifteen kilometers away. He could cover that in a few hours.

And he'd have to start soon, before nightfall came. Already the sky was streaked with colors of russet and gold; the sun was setting. Getting up, he hurriedly left the platform and onto the road. Cars were streaming by at a rapid pace and Lupin ducked into the nearby woods, away from any driver's passing eyes. Keeping an eye on the road, he started his trek.

The woods were quiet and peaceful, with the dappled, fading sunlight sprinkling the forest floor. Foliage bloomed in the colors of fall, a mixture of reds, oranges, and burnt sienna. Lupin took a deep breath of the crisp, autumn air. Despite the cold, it wasn't so bad, walking through the woods.

However, only one thing bothered him. The birds chirped and sang their evening calls to one another throughout the forest, but this wasn't it. It was the absence of that singing when he passed the nesting trees that saddened him. He would approach a maple with calling birds, yet when he stepped within five feet of the tree, the birds suddenly silenced. Some even scattered at his coming, as if they were escaping a danger.

Danger. Yes, that's all he was now. A danger.

That's why Lupin left Hogwarts. Because he considered himself a threat to the students. He should have never come to Hogwarts, not when he was fully aware of the evil within him. It didn't matter that Dumbledore himself trusted him in handling that job. It didn't matter that at Hogwarts he had a bed to sleep in or three square meals a day. It didn't matter that for once in his life, Lupin felt that he actually had a place in the world. For it was all forsaken the moment the moonlight touched him. 

_A false sense of security, that's what Hogwarts was,_ Lupin thought. He kicked at a pile of fallen leaves. _An illusion and nothing more. _

His resolve for optimism broke for a second time. He didn't care. How he could be happy now, when he had just abandoned the best chance he ever had at Hogwarts? He was stuck in the same situation he was in before, wandering from place to place.Lupin didn't know why he did this; maybe it was the wolf's restless spirit. Or maybe he was looking for something, though what that thing was he had no idea.

The sun had set all too fast. Shining stars replaced it, bright pin points in the velvet evening sky. All the birds and small animals were tucked away, safe in their nests and burrows. Time for Lupin to sleep as well. Havenshire was still kilometers away.

Lupin looked around for a good place to rest, and choose the concealing branches of a pine. Crawling under the green boughs, he pushed away the dead twigs to make some room for himself and made a small bed out of the dry needles. He cleared a little space on the ground and placed some small stones in a circle. Gathering some needles to use as kindle, he placed them within the circle and lit them using a hand-held lighter. A mundane means, but one can't be too careful out in the Muggle world. Soon, he had a small fire going, a little warmth to drive away the cold.

Hunched over in front of the fire, Lupin raised his hands over the comforting flame. His stomach rumbled - he hadn't eaten a thing all day - but at least he wouldn't freeze to death. Pulling the black case over to him, he opened it up and retrieved a small blanket. This was fairly new and quite thick; it had been a small gift from Madam Pomfrey. "You'll catch a your death of pneumonia out there," she had said to him the night before he left. "Take this here, just in case." Most of the teachers had brought presents for him when he took his leave, a kind act since none of them were particularly close to him. In that little black case was several helpful potions, spells, and even a few Sickles, all gifts from them. They had given him quite a bit of food too, but that was already long gone.

Wrapping the blanket over his shoulders, Lupin leaned his back against the tree and took the case into his lap. The case had an expansion spell put on it, so it could contain much more magically than it could physically. He searched through it, looking for his Bible, one of the two books he always carried with him. Instead, he found his hands take out something cold and heavy.

The Colt .45 revolver was drawn out of the bag. Lupin held it in his hands, warming the metal. The firelight played on the contours of the weapon, highlighting the curves and slopes of the gun barrel. Opening the chamber, Lupin took out the single piece of ammunition: a silver bullet.

Sometimes at night, he would take the weapon out for no reason than just to look at it. Here could be the solution to all his problems, right here in his hands. It gave him a vague sense of power and security, if nothing else. A feeling one usually had with their wand, not a Muggle weapon.

Many tales of myth and legend surround werewolves, and many of those stories are ways to lift its curse. Some said that whoever cursed are cursed for all eternity. Others say that if the curse was placed through a werewolf's bite, then killing the original source of the magic - the Alpha wolf - was the solution. The final cure for the curse was having the werewolf's true love pierce a silver object through its heart. 

That was why Lupin always carried this gun. Whether he would find anyone to care for him or not he couldn't be certain, but no matter what that bullet was meant for him. Lupin prayed that someday he would find someone to cure him, before he was tempted to fire it himself. 

Lupin snapped out of his thoughts. He shouldn't be thinking about that! Shoving the bullet back into the first chamber, he closed the gun and double-checked to be sure the safety latch was on. Control - that was what this gun was. Control over the only constant Lupin had: his life. Roughly throwing the gun back into his case, he took out what he meant to get in the first place, his Bible.

Opening the cover, Lupin raised the book to his nose and sniffed at the binding and well-worn pages. Odd thought, but he always believed that books had a sacred scent, like foreign spices. Books always has a special magic about them, especially this one. 

This was his family's book, passed down for generations. On the first five pages, written in flowing letters, was his family tree. Dozens of different scripts detailed the lives of his ancestors' births and deaths. His own father had been the last to own this book, and in neat little letters, Lupin could make out his name beneath those of his parents. He was an only child, and since all of his relatives were long gone, the last of his family line. It was unsettling, Lupin thought, that the entire existence of so many people all came down to just him.

Flipping to a bookmarked spot, he began to read. Every now and then, he fed the fire a stick or two, and once in awhile he looked up to gaze into the fire. This was how he usually spent his nights: alone in the woods, sitting by the flames, clutching the blanket around his slim body and pouring over the words of his family's book. And during those times he didn't feel so much despair. He was at peace then, and maybe - just maybe - even a bit content.

Chapter 2

Owwwoooooo....

_Where was he? Remmy couldn't tell. Too dark, too dark to see. The smell of wet leaves and rotting vegetation came to his nose. The buzz of mosquitoes filled his ears. He tried swatting some away, but they were teeming in this moist air. He was near a swamp, wasn't he? But how did he get there? Did the forest lead into the wetlands somehow...?_

Owwwwwooooo...

_That call. It was closer. What was it?_

Snap._ A twig broke behind him. Remmy whirled around, and saw a bearded man staring right back at him with a shocked expression on his face. _

_"Remmy!" Father whispered sternly. "What are you doing here?"_

_"I- I was- I... I just wanted to see who Lycaos was." Remmy stared down at his feet. What happened to his declarations of bravery he had planned to say to his father before? Remmy tried opening his mouth to speak again, but instead felt shame for being there. _

_"I told you to go to bed!" Father started. "Why did you follow me?"_

Owwwwwooooo....

_"But Father," he heard himself say loudly, trying to make a case for himself. "I thought I could help..." He trailed off when he realized that he wasn't sure how he was going to accomplish that._

_However, Father wasn't listening to him. He had his back turned to him, seeking out the source of the call. His blue eyes scanned the surrounding forest cautiously._

_"Remmy..." he whispered haltingly. "Stay here. Don't leave my side."_

_Remmy found himself nodding and went over to stand to his father's right. "What is it?" he asked hesitantly._

_"Shhhh. I need to hear..."_

_The boy felt a cold sweat break out over his forehead. He thought he heard something growling from the darkness of the trees. He leaned against his father and looked around fearfully. Something, something not right was here, something not right. His breath soon came out in short gasps, as he tried to take hold of his father's hand. _

_Father shook him off. "Not now, son," he heard him say. "I have to concentrate." He raised his crossbow up with one hand and his wand with the other. "_Lumos_," he whispered, and the wand lit up. He held it in front of him, peering into the night._

_A swift movement in the darkness. A pair of bright, glowing eyes stared right at the boy for a split second, then disappeared. Remmy's heart jumped out of his chest at the sight. "Father, I think I saw-"_

_"Quiet, Rem!" Father's voice was deep and growling. His arm felt tense when Remmy touched it._

_A soft rustle of dead leaves, this time much closer to them. "Father, there's something-"_

_"Don't Remmy-" Father started again, and then he gasped._

_"ROOOAAARRRRRRRRRR!"_

_A white form leaped up out of the darkness and landed right on top of Father. Remmy was thrown back, and crashed into the back of an elm. He looked up to see the two wrestling on the ground. In the dark, it was hard to tell who was winning, or what that thing was. Catches of gray-white fur was seen in the moonlight, along with fierce teeth. Father took out a knife from his belt and started slashing. Yet the beast snapped its jaws over the knife and easily broke the blade in two._

_"Father!" Remmy jumped up and grabbed a nearby stick. He rushed at them, waving the stick over his head. He jumped and latched his little hands into the thick fur. He wrapped his arms around the neck of the animal, trying to strangle it. "Let him go!" he screamed, beating down with the stick. _

_The beast writhed and shook, and Remmy found his grip slipping. The creature howled and turned its head to attack Remmy, and shouting, the boy let go and fell on the boggy ground._

_"Remus, no!" he heard his father groan weakly. Remmy could only sit and stare at the creature, seeing it clearly for the first time. _

_The animal was a large wolf with silver-gray fur. He was twice as large as a normal wolf, and stood over Remmy as his golden yellow eyes stared at him. His pointed muzzle was just a few inches from his face, and Remmy could smell fresh blood on his breath. A soft predatory growl came from his throat, and the wolf showed his teeth: long and stained and dripping with saliva. _

_At that moment, Remmy felt his heart stop. He uttered one word in fear and awe. "Lycaos."_

_Lycaos said nothing in return. The growl became more menacing, as the wolf licked its chops._

Thump!

_"Oof!" The wolf buckled and almost fell on top of Remmy, an arrow prodding from its back. Luckily, the boy rolled out of the way and crawled backwards away from Lycaos. He turned his head to see Father leaning heavily against a tree, crossbow in hand. "Run, Remus!" he ordered._

_Remmy got up on shaky footing to see Lycaos rise again. He shook his head dizzily and focused on Father. Roaring wildly, the wolf bounded up to tackle him again._

Thump! Thump! Thump!

_Three more silver arrows shot out and plunged into the wolf's shoulders and back. But Lycaos kept running. Remmy stood there, quaking in fear. He didn't know whether he should start running himself or try to help. Yet it was too late. Remmy only had time to shout uselessly, "Look out!" as Lycaos collided into Father and both fell onto the ground and tumbled down a slope toward the swamplands._

_Remmy heard a loud splash as the two hit the stagnant water. A wolf's cry was heard as well as the sounds of wrestling in the water. But afterwards, no noise came. A dreadful silence draped itself over the woods. Only the quiet buzz of flies and night bugs broke the stillness._

_Looking out toward the slope leading to the swamp, a full-grown panic welled up in Remmy. He started shaking as a flood of thoughts filled his mind. What happened to Father? Is he dead? Did Lycaos get him? What should he do? Where's Father? Should he get Murphy? Is Lycaos till out there? Will there be enough time to get help? Where's Father? Where's Lycaos? Oh God, Father!_

_Help Remmy did not get. Instead, ever so quietly, he crawled over to the edge of the slope. He saw that the slope wasn't that steep, and about fifteen feet away lay the cattails and tall grasses of the swamp. The grasses were swaying slightly. Was it from the two fighters or was it just the wind? Remmy scampered through the slippery mud and stones of the hillside toward the swamp edge. Standing by the cattails, he brushed some aside and looked around. "Father?" he whispered timidly._

_Something hit against his foot as he stepped into tall grass. Remmy jumped back and glanced down at his feet. His father's dead eyes stared right back at him, as he lay half-in, half-out of the water. His throat torn out so that the sagging muscles showed. A dribble of blood ran down the pale lips of his gaping mouth. Wet crimson covered his clothes and diluted in the dank water._

_A lump rose in his throat, and Remmy backed away quickly, feeling sick. He collapsed by the tall grass and kneeled over, vomiting on the ground and on his clothes. His eyesight blurred as he wiped his mouth and spat, trying to get the foul taste out of his mouth. It was disgusting, this vomit, and this blood, this blood that had stained the mud and the rocks near the body. Oh, all he could smell and see and taste was vomit and rot and death. Remmy groaned and kneeled over again, dry-retching. _

_"Father..." he moaned, hugging his knees. The sound came out in tight, guttural gasps. He buried his face in his arms and started rocking back and forth, moaning the name over and over again. "Father, Father, come back, Father, Father.... oh please help me...." he whimpered, even though he knew well that his father's corpse lay just a few feet away. He sniffed and wiped his nose._

_Something sparkled in the moonlight by his feet. Remmy reached over and picked it up. It was Father's silver chain with the little cross, the chain now blood-smeared and broken. Remmy held the bauble to his chest like a talisman._

_Suddenly, he felt a shadow loom over him. Looking up warily, he saw the yellow eyes._

_Remmy jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he could go. But he heard Lycaos' quick paws loping behind him, gaining upon him, coming closer and closer and closer..._

_He tripped on a jagged rock and fell face first. When Remmy got up, all he could see was a streak of white and the sharp dagger teeth as they sunk into his flesh and-_

"NO!"

Lupin snapped awake and clutched his side, screaming. It hurt again, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt just like it did that night, that night, with Lycaos, blood, vomit - oh God, Father!

"Stop it, stop it!" he yelled out hoarsely, shutting his eyes tight and shaking his head back and forth. "STOP!"

Finally, the nightmare creased its grip on his mind. Lupin opened his eyes and fell back against the rough bark of the pine tree, hyperventilating. He immediately took off his jacket and lifted up his shirt. He put his hand on his left side, right below the rib cage. He felt his feverish skin, coated in a cold sweat. No blood, no pain, no broken flesh or torn muscle or brittle bone. Just the rough, jagged trace of a large dark-colored scar, all that remained from Lycaos' attack. The werewolf's bite.

Lupin picked up his jacket and put it on. His breathing slowed, but he still felt the raw fear inside. It was over for tonight, but it will come back again the next time he slept. The whole episode. Following his father out into the woods, being attacked by Lycaos, seeing death and tasting vomit and smelling stench of swamp fumes - it would all come back. The memory always returned, almost every night for the last twenty-nine years. Twenty-nine years and it never left him. 

He shivered. The fire had gone out. Damn. Lupin reached into his pocket for his lighter. Flicking it, he only got a sharp _click_ and no flame. The kerosene in the lighter must have run out. Bloody hell. 

Getting up, Lupin took the blanket, which had fallen aside during the dream, and stuffed it into his case. He brushed the pine needles off of his ragged clothes and moved out from under the pine tree. He didn't feel like sleeping anymore.

"_Lumos_," he muttered, taking out his wand. He could risk a little magic, for a comforting light. It lit up, shedding some cheery light upon the path in front of him. He quickly made his way out of the forest and onto the deserted road. Feeling the hard, man-made asphalt under his feet made him feel a bit better. It made him think of getting to Havenshire. The simple presence of people was relief to him and something he looked forward to. He needed to be surrounded by humanity; it made himself feel more human.

The stars were fading over the horizon, and so was white silhouette of the moon. If he looked up he would have seen it over three-quarters full, but Lupin kept his eyes stolidly on the road. One hand was holding his black case, the other was at his neck, grasping the chain as if it was a lifeline. He let his thoughts wander as he took the road to town. 

After his father's death, life had dripped downhill for Lupin. Yes, Lupin, not Remmy- he refused to have anyone call him by that name ever again. It was his father's name for him, a name that he wanted to keep sacred.

Murphy, the old servant of the family, took guardianship over Lupin during the first years he was cursed. It was a miracle that Lupin had been able to survive the attack; the bite was healed overnight, but he also suffered a broken leg which crippled him for a month. That wound was healed during the first full moon after the accident, of course, since turning into a wolf helped the regeneration process. 

Oh, and the first time the change occurred- now that was a different nightmare altogether. Murphy and he knew it was going to happen, but were never prepared enough for it. That night Lupin had run around Hogsmeade like a rabid dog and invaded four houses. He almost killed a woman in the first house, and just ransacked the rest, destroying everything in his path. The mayor of Hogmeade, although grateful to his father for driving out Lycaos, made it clear that they wouldn't tolerate another werewolf in town. And so Lupin and Murphy packed the few possessions they had and left.

Over the next four years, they traveled all over the United Kingdom, looking for a cure for Lupin's curse. From one wizarding community to the next, they journeyed, asking for help. But who would dare help a werewolf? They were driven away wherever they went, some more fiercely than others. Lupin could remember a time where an old witch had chased them away from her cottage yelling obscenities at them while throwing hexes. Another time, a wizarding hermit even attempted to kill Lupin with a silver sword saying, "The inhuman monster! The boy's as good as dead anyway!"

When they learned that killing his werewolf maker could cure him, the two spent months trying to track Lycaos down, but without success. The last anyone had seen of the silver-gray werewolf was at Hogsmeade. It seemed as if the old beast disappeared off the face of the earth after that. Sometimes, Lupin had wondered exactly why Lycaos bit him. Maybe it was for vengeance against humankind: to make someone feel the same suffering he must have felt. Or maybe Lycaos had gone mad like everyone had said and bit him out of insanity. Or Lycaos could have even wanted an "cursed son" so to speak, someone to carry on the werewolf lineage. But, nevertheless, Lycaos was lost to them forever.

Two months after they had given up the search, the second cure was discovered, from an old Celtic in Ireland. Murphy had flat-out refused to attempt to impale his master's son through the heart with anything. "Young sire, I wun't do such things!" he had fumed to Lupin afterwards. "That beggar barely had his wits about him! What if it don't work?" And that finished any attempt in persuading him to do so. Lupin had bought the gun years afterward, when he was eighteen.

All the information they had ever gathered about werewolves didn't come to waste, however. It was all meticulously written down in a thick volume that Lupin carried about him in that black case, his own personal guidebook about lycanthropy. Lupin knew the writings by heart.

One passage particularly stood out in his memory. It was marked in his book, underscored twice in ink.

DAMNATION:

A person who becomes a werewolf against his will (birth, curse, or bite) is not completely damned until he tastes of human blood. Once he does, his soul is eternally damned and nothing may redeem him. Even without tasting of human blood, however, as long as the taint lays upon the human soul, it cannot enter Heaven, and will remain chained to the mortal plane upon death....

By age eleven, two things happened that changed Lupin's life forever. One was the death of his faithful friend and protector Murphy. Poor old man, he died of heart failure when they were traveling up north. It didn't seen fair to Lupin; a dear, loving person didn't deserve to die without the comforts of home back at Hogsmeade. But at least, Lupin had thought, Murphy was in a better place now. Lupin didn't have any money to pay for a proper burial, so he cremated the body himself. He carried the ashes for as long as possible and scattered them over a small woodland lake in northern England. A quiet and peaceful place that he knew Murphy would have loved.

The other event was a much happier one. Lupin had been sleeping in the slums of London that evening, when he heard the flapping of wings above him. He looked up to see a great horned owl hovering over him, holding a letter in its talons. That letter was an acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Lupin couldn't believe it. Hogwarts was a world-renown wizarding school; what would they want to do with someone like him? 

In the letter Headmaster Dumbledore had personally written about how he had known of the tragedies that had befallen him. Lupin's father had been a well-loved wizard down at the Registry for Magical Creatures, before he had left to work as an independent Dark Creatures Auror. A couple months after he had died, Dumbledore tried contacting Lupin at Hogsmeade, but the mayor had informed him that Lupin had left. Ever since then, Dumbledore had been following up on where he and Murphy traveled, sending his guardian money every now and then so that they wouldn't starve. They had made a secret agreement between them via owl mail to send Lupin to Hogwarts as soon as he was old enough, or in case something should happen to Murphy. "And so, Remus," Dumbledore had concluded in flowing emerald green ink, "I am gladly welcoming you to Hogwarts, your new home."

Home. For the first time in many years Lupin had a place to call home. And for those next seven years were the happiest in his life. Roaming the many corridors and expansive grounds at Hogwarts. Sneaking out to go to the Forbidden Forests to talk with the centaurs. Visiting his hometown of Hogsmeade once again. Making friends with James and Sirius and Pettigrew. Helping them learn how to become Animagi, thus forming the infamous foursome of Moony, Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail. 

A passing car distracted Lupin from his thoughts and he realized that he was just at the outskirts of Havenshire, which consisted mostly of farmland. The sun had just risen over the horizon, and the early risers had woken up in their homes. Some farmers were already out in the fields on their tractors, starting the fall harvest. Lupin smiled to himself. 

Humanity. 

Strolling down the residential streets, Lupin saw that most of the homes were small and well kept. This wasn't a rich town, but neither was it a poor hamlet. He counted less than a hundred or so residential homes as he passed, most of them being small farms. This was a true country town; he estimated that the population was no more than 500.

The center of town was the social and business district, which was rather small. A general store, a tavern, a small school, and a church was all that was there. The deep chime of church bells rang out into the cool morning air, calling out the hour. One, two, three, four, five, tolls of the bell. 

Lupin headed straight toward the church, for none of the other buildings was open yet. By past experience, Lupin knew that most country churches were always kept unlocked, open to anyone who wanted to come in.

The church was a plain and white with tall windows on the sides and a small bell tower. A little rose and gold stain-glass window stood above the front doors. Lupin entered the church to see the straight-backed, hardwood pews leading up to the altar. A large cross hung on the wall above the altar. Near the front of the room was a stairwell leading up to the bell tower. Bright sunlight streamed into the airy room, highlighting the little motes in the air. Lupin breathed deeply into his lungs - like books, churches always had a special scent. 

"Sanctuary," he whispered. Lupin traced the carved edge of a pew with his fingertips, thinking of the old medieval custom of churches offering protection to all who sought it. One could come into a church, declare sanctuary, and be safe from whatever danger he was facing. If only Lupin could do that with his curse. Yet for years churches had still provided a warm shelter during winter nights or food and clothes from donation bins. A church was his supply refuge at least, if not his sanctuary.

Making his way to the front pew, Lupin solemnly made the Sign of the Cross as he sat down. He then clasped his hands together and bowed his head. Softly, he said the prayer he always said at every church he visited.

"Dear Almighty Lord and Father," he whispered solemnly, "I thank you for giving me the strength to overcome my troubles. I know that I am a cursed being, a werewolf, yet I am not damned. For this I am grateful to you. I pray, Lord, for the wisdom and love to help deliver me from this evil I have become, and the will not to succumb to the demons that plague me. I pray for the souls of my loving family who await for me in heaven: for the mother I never knew, for dear old Murphy and, most of all, for my father, whose bravery I will never forget. May all praise, honor and glory be to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen."

Lupin continued sitting there for a few moments, gazing at the little virgil candles placed near the front. He then sighed and got up, heading toward the stairwell leading to the bell tower.

The steps were narrow and creaked loudly when he used them. They seemed so old that he fear they might break under his weight, but the stairs held firm. A little door opened up to the bell tower. Away from the main building, the temperature plunged. He would rather have stayed downstairs, but he didn't want to be spotted by any of the other townspeople. 

The musty smell of dust and moldy wood was in the air and he sneezed as he entered the tower. Standing in the square space, he saw that it was much larger than it looked from below. Three by three meters it was, with walls that stood a little over one meter high. The ceiling was peaked so it was highest at the center, where a large iron bell hanging up in the crossbeam. A heavy cable was hooked up to the bell, and hung straight down through a hole in the floor to the back room. Below, a little pulley and lever mechanism was in place, so the bell tolled automatically.

Lupin leaned out of the wooden side and gazed over the village. He could see people milling about like ants, with little old ladies stopping by the general store while groups of children walked to school. The tavern wasn't open yet, but its keeper was outside talking with another man. A pick-up truck from one of the farther farms drove by the schoolhouse to drop off a little boy. 

Lupin yawned. He had been up for only a few hours, but the walk to town must have tired him more than he thought. His stomach began complaining again, but he ignored it. He had a bit of Muggle money with him; maybe he could stop by the general store later that day. But for now sleep called him.

Tucking himself in a dusty corner of the bell tower, Lupin pulled his case up against him and wrapped his arms around himself. The bell might wake him up later, but for now, he was too tired to care. Within a few minutes, he fell peacefully asleep. He needn't worry about the nightmares then. They never came when he slept in churches.

Chapter 3

"Caw, caw!"

A sharp poke to the top of the head was what woke him up. Instinctively, Lupin flailed out and touched a angry mass of feathers and talons. Opening his eyes, he saw a red-eyed crow flap awkwardly away, cawing like mad. It flapped wildly around the small bell tower, its insistent cry hurting his ears.

"Quiet down, will you!" Lupin couldn't help but snap at the bird, who didn't pay any attention to him at all. He groaned and rubbed his head. The bird was still clearly upset, but soon settled down as it hopped past Lupin and into a small twig nest in the rafters. 

"Sorry I disturbed your home," he said in a slightly caustic tone. The bird only glared at him with beady eyes and turned its head away from him.

Lupin checked his watch. Nearly five o'clock in the afternoon. He had easily slept for twelve hours straight. He was amazed that the bell hadn't woken him up. But maybe it only rung at certain times during the day instead of hourly. Why would an ornery bird such as a crow live up here if the bells were constantly ringing?

Heading down into the chapel, he heard the distinct slam of the front doors. Lupin ducked back into the stairwell out of sight. He stood there for a few minutes as he heard a pair of lone footsteps walk down the aisle. He peered around the corner to see the minister slip into his back office and shut the door.

He would have to leave in a few days, that was for certain. Lupin couldn't afford to stay here all winter. In years past, the charity of country churches had been exceedingly generous to him. Yet no one was ever kind enough to let him stay all winter. A week, even a month - usually until after Christmas if he came to the came during the early winter - but after that, it was out the door with him. Townspeople were always wary of strangers wandering into town. Also, after awhile, word got around from passing towns about him, and some people became especially worried about his character. Lupin never did anything to harm anyone during his travels, but suspicion got the best of him. Someone who just walks into the place one day, dressed in shambles, keeping mostly to himself - who wouldn't suspect him of being a criminal of some type? And so, currently, Lupin had to be careful not to be seen by too many when he traveled into small towns; who knows what they might already presume about him?

When he was sure that the coast was clear, Lupin stepped out, but went back upstairs for his case before leaving the church. Coming out for the second time, he headed to the general store, but was disappointed to find that it was already closed for the day. Irritated, he checked the front windows. No one. He sighed and turned around to go back. What kind of store closes at five? 

Yet his hunger clawed at him. When was the last time he had eaten? Counting today, four days ago. Any longer and Lupin would not be around to make it to Cambridge or London, never mind before winter.

The sounds of the tavern were what drew him. Could he get something to eat in there? _Just go in, get something, and get out,_ he thought logically to himself as he opened the door.

Upon entering the tavern, he saw that it was quite a dark and cramped place. Smells of beer and cigarette smoke filled the air and made him cough. Someone had a TV installed in the upper corner of the bar, with the station turned on to a sports game. Football was what Lupin thought it was, watching the players kick the black and white ball across the field. Nothing to compare with Quidditch.

The place was crowded with regulars and he got quite a few stares as he made his way over to the bar. 

"One of the usual," he quickly told the bartender, trying to fit in. The bartender, a heavy-set woman with faded red hair, quickly grabbed a bottle and shoved it in his hands without giving him a single glance. Lupin sealed the exchange by handing her the wad of Muggle money. He hadn't bothered to count out the bills, but then again, the bartender never named the price. "Got any food?" he added hopefully, and the lady seemed to scoff without changing her insipid face.

"Try the general store, hon," she said, and turned to tend the other customers.

A bit disgruntled about that fact and the bartender's rudeness, Lupin headed over the farthest, darkest corner of the tavern. He passed by the door and thought instantly to leave, but the atmosphere was friendly and inviting. Plus, there was warmth here, something that the bell tower lacked. And so, he took his seat and uncapped the bottle. _Just take the drink and leave_, he thought. After all, he did pay for it. 

He took a couple swings from the bottle while watching the other people in the tavern and almost choked on its contents. Spluttering, he looked at the label. Old Samuel's Absinthe. 

Lupin took a double take. He wasn't sure about Muggle liquors, but he could have sworn that the making of absinthe was illegal in the wizarding world. Most alcoholic beverages were frowned upon, because intoxicated wizards were dangerous wizards. He looked over at the bar and saw that most of the customers had the green-hued bottle in their hands. He sighed and took another sip, wondering if he should have asked for plain water. At least this could calm his stomach down. He remembered Murphy always keeping a whisky flask with him for that specific purpose. As long as he didn't get drunk, Lupin decided, he'd be fine.

Lupin slumped in his seat. He took another drink from the bottle. It wasn't too bad, actually, once he got used to the bitter edge of it. Absinthe tasted a little like black licorice.

He held the bottle lazily in his hand and sighed. He looked at the other people there. None of them were brooders and the sound of laughter and loud talking reached his ears. Lupin suddenly felt a sharp pang of loneliness that he never felt before. When was the last time he ever had companionship? Back at Hogwarts. Lupin took another sip as he thought of his friends there. Most of the faculty were distant to him for most of the year, and the only ones he was really close to were Dumbledore, and a student of his, Harry Potter. 

_He would be starting his fourth year this fall,_ Lupin thought wistfully. There was a rumor that Hogwarts was hosting the Triwizard Tournament, an event that hasn't been held for a hundred years. Lupin wondered what would become of him.

And where was he at the moment? Moping at a Muggle bar, pondering whether he would drop dead during the next twenty-four hours. And how long had he been stuck like this? Thirty-seven years old and what has he done with those years? For fourteen of them - his early childhood and his years at Hogwarts - he was truly happy; the rest were hell. What to make of it now? He was still stuck in mortal hell, wasn't he?

And what next? More years of wandering? Should he go and find one of those pathetic homeless shelters to reside in, just so that he could live through another winter? Was it worth it? Was life ever worth living?

He kicked at the black case at his feet. Inside, right next to each other, was a gun and a Bible. If he got himself drunk enough, would he have the courage to take out the former or the latter?

Another swig and nothing touched his lips. Empty. Taking the glass in his hands, Lupin blinked in surprise. He didn't realize that he drained it that quickly. The slightly bitter taste was still in his mouth. It pulled at him, tempting him. Bottle in hand, he had felt a bit better with his situation, even when pondering those morbid thoughts. When was the last time alcohol ever distracted him like this? Well, it couldn't be _really_ called a distraction; it was only _one_ bottle....

Lupin checked his money. Still enough for one bottle with a little bit left over for food. However, he didn't feel all that hungry anymore, with the absinthe in his stomach. He raised his hand up and called for the bartender, his voice much louder than before. "Another Absinthe over here, m'lady."

The bartender looked up at him for the first time and smiled, taking out another cold bottle from under the counter. Old Samuel's Absinthe, brewed in the tavern basement. 

Chapter 4

The church bells were ringing again at sunset. They only rang at the beginning and end of each day. No one was really sure why; it only happened that way.

Reverend Grisham stepped out into the cool evening air. Despite the fact that the sun sank only moments ago, the moon was already up, large and white. A full moon. The minister shivered; he always had the strangest feeling during full moons, and he couldn't say why.

Maybe it was then he could hear the gunshot, even thought it had fired over a year ago. The lady's silk gloved finger pulling the trigger and the blasting noise as she fell. It still haunted him, that gunshot.

His house was right behind the church and Reverend Grisham slipped into the back door. Stepping into the chapel, he called out the name of his daughter. "Mary? You here? Time for supper!"

His own echoes only came back to greet him. Reverend Grisham sighed. She wasn't at the playground, nor was she at her friend Suzy's house. There was only one other place she could be.

The minister took the creaking steps up to the bell tower. These steep stairs - they were one of the few reasons he didn't like anyone going up here. _Someone could fall and break their necks on these steps, they could,_ he thought to himself. _A safety hazard. Why didn't I put a door blocking this stairway?_

He opened the door to see a little girl no more than seven years old sitting down on the bell tower floor. She had a stuffed patchwork doll in her hands and was talking to it softly. Her golden curls were tied back in little green bows, the color matching her jumper. 

He adjusted the wire-rim spectacles on his long nose. "Mary," Reverend Grisham said sternly. "How many times have I told you not to come up here?"

Mary looked up at him with large blue eyes, startled, but she soon recovered. "Lydia wanted to," she said stubbornly. "Right, Lydia?" She moved the doll's head up and down and smiled as if that gave her the reason she needed. 

"And it's freezing up here too," Reverend Grisham added, "You could get sick from playing out in this cold! I might as well put a lock on this door-"

"Oh Papa, don't!" Mary got up and went to her father, dragging doll behind her. "Don't lock it up! I promise I wouldn't never, ever come up here ever again!"

"If you never come here again, then it wouldn't matter what I do with the bell tower," he pointed out, smiling. "Now come on. Your mum's got supper on the table." He made to lift Mary up in his arms, but the girl crossed her arms in protest. 

"Say you're not lockin' it up," she pouted.

"It all depends," he hedged. "No one comes up here anymore since the pulley's been put in...."

"But Papa-"

"We'll talk more about it later," he said quickly. 

"Promise?"

He sighed. "Mary, you have to remember-"

"You're stalling," she accused, sticking her lower lip out.

"I'm not _stalling_," Reverend Grisham smiled, mimicking her tone, "I'd just like to point out that-"

Yet the girl didn't listen. Mary slipped past him and down the stairs.

"Now, Mary, be careful!" Reverend Grisham gasped, agitated. "The stairs-!"

"I don't have to be if I don't wanna!" Mary stuck her tongue out and she leapt over the steps two at a time. She giggled and disappeared around the corner at the bottom of the flight.

"Now, wait here-" Reverend Grisham called out and rushed down. Two steps and he quickly stumbled over his feet. He nearly tumbled head over heels, but instead managed to grab a hand out against the wall after hitting the first couple steps. His spectacles fell askew and then hit the ground, making a faint cracking sound as they hit the bottom step. "Goodness!" he spluttered, a hand to his backside. "A real safety hazard, these steps! Have to remember to lock this place up, now.... For sakes..!" 

By that time, he was more than a bit annoyed with Mary's behavior. "Mary! Come here this instant!" Yet by the time Reverend Grisham entered the church, it was empty once more.

***

Mary giggled to herself as she exited the front doors of the church, whirling her doll around in her arms. "Oh, Papa!" she simpered playfully. "I'm a big girl now, right Lydia? Papa doesn't need to worry 'bout stupid stairs."

She headed her way to the back of the church where her home was. Mary had no idea that at the moment how irritated her father was with her. All she could think about was the bell tower. It was her personal playhouse. She and Suzy had been there practically a million times; why did Papa had to worry? And the birdie that nested up there was fun too. They talked sometimes; Mary always considered him a sort of pet.

A soft sound distracted the girl, and Mary stopped by the side of the church. A noise was coming from somewhere, something low and rough, almost like a motor running. She looked around her. The area around the center of town was relatively well-lit; Mary was only fifty yards from the lamppost that stood in front of the church. 

Away from the circle of light the noise came from. Mary had never heard such a sound before, and so mistaken it for a car motor. Yet no vehicles were on the road. And no engine noise was this grizzled, this wild.

Her little blonde head turned toward the sound and focused them on a dark figure near by the tavern alley. It was a low and hunkering form, maybe that of a large, shaggy dog. Yet when the creature grew near, Mary knew that this beast was different than any dog she had ever seen. 

The wolf moved awkwardly, stumbled, but then steadied itself. It flashed a pair of hazel eyes at her and crouched down, its growl still persistent. 

Mary backed away, holding her doll tighter to herself. Her small heart began to beat faster. She didn't like this doggie. Was it sick like Papa had always told her about town-ravaging animals? What was the sickness called? Ray-bies?

The wolf took two steps towards her, then swayed again. An instinct in her mind told Mary to run, but she felt her legs give out beneath her in freight. _This doggie must be sick with ray-bies_, she thought to herself. She swallowed hard and looked at the front door to her home and then to the door of the church. There was equal distance between her and each destination; which should she run to?

The wolf slumped down onto its knees and its growling creased, replaced by a weak whine. It dropped to the ground, and laid there motionless.

Slowly, Mary felt the fear in her reside. The doggie _was_ sick! She ventured a step towards it. Her crow had broken a wing once, and she helped mend it. Could she possibly help this doggie? When the animal didn't make another move, Mary felt brave enough to come closer. Soon, she was only a few feet from the wolf, her confidence growing.

"Doggie?" she whispered softly, reaching out a hand to stroke the brown-gray fur. "Are you okay?"

At her touch, the wolf's eyes snapped open, confused and unfocused. They landed on Mary and the wolf snapped its jaws out toward her....

***

From inside, Reverend Grisham was at the base of the stairs, trying to fix his broken spectacles when he heard his daughter scream. "Mary?" he gasped and jumped to his feet. Another scream echoed from outside. "MARY!"

The minister rushed down the aisle, despite his limp, and threw open the front doors. Bursting out from the church, he dashed toward the sound. He halted abruptly and stared ahead in shock as his back slumped against the side of the church. He stood there meekly, gasping for breath as he viewed the scene in from of him in horror. 

Something wet and red lay at his feet. He touched it gingerly with his foot, and saw the patches of unstained fabric. Slowly, he picked up the blood-stained doll from the ground. A frightened sob came from his lips as he stroked the doll's bloody yarn hair and pressed the child's toy to his chest. He stared ahead at the crimson blood splattered on the sidings of the church and spewed across the asphalt and grass. Split human blood, a sacrilege on holy ground. "Mary....?" he whispered before falling to his knees. "Oh dear God...." 

Chapter 5

A strange taste was in his mouth, slightly metallic yet tangy. The texture was thick and sticky, like something had congealed onto his tongue. Lupin groaned and spat on the ground. He felt like crap. What happened last night?

A pounding migraine throbbed in his skull, making him grimace. Putting a hand to his head, Lupin lifted his eyes. The daytime sun poured down upon him, and the light made his head worse. He groaned, and covered his head in his arms. 

His body felt stiff and sore, like he had slept on the bare ground. His Muggle clothes were more dirt-stained and rumpled than usual, as if he had been rolling in the dirt. Seeing his surroundings, Lupin saw that he did. He was back in the forest on the edge of town. How did he get there?

Lupin tried getting up, but once he did a wave of dizziness hit him and he stumbled back down. The migraine grew worse and Lupin swore he was seeing spots. He cursed under his breath and rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. This was the worst hangover he had in years. 

Crawling on all fours, Lupin tried to remember what had happened at the tavern. He drank, yes, but how much? It couldn't have been too much, for he wouldn't have had enough money to pay for it all. But still... Lupin shook his head. His memory was fuzzy and it made his head hurt to try and remember. He groaned as he felt his stomach toss and turn unpleasantly. Rushing to the base of a nearby tree, he vomited in the depression between two roots.

Lupin wiped his mouth on his sleeve, disgusted by the dripping mess. How could he throw up if he hadn't eaten in days? The vomit was red. Blood?

A puzzled look was on his face as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. That wasn't- wasn't- He noticed his hands, and then his clothes. Dark, dried patches of black-red covered his shirt and jacket. His hands stained with dark blood that caked under his fingernails. He wiped his mouth and flakes of it came off into his palm. He spat and the spit was tinged red. The tangy taste in his mouth grew more pungent with this realization. The feel of blood on his hands, the taste of blood in his mouth.

A panic rose in Lupin's chest at this realization. God, what happened to him?? Mirror, he had to find a mirror! No, water, he had to get it off! Lupin sprang up to his feet, but the vertigo made him fall back on his hands and knees. He couldn't stand. Oh, his head, his heart, his soul! The sun was making him more nauseous and he retched on the ground beside him.

He stared at the mess of himself, at the mess on the ground. Vomit and blood, vomit and blood and death- Oh God! He shut his eyes! Water! He had to be clean! What happened? Whose blood? Whose blood!

A grieving cry welled up in Lupin's throat. Blood and death and vomit, Lycaos jumping at him, teeth into the flesh; blood, blood on the ground, blood on Father, blood on himself and death; the smell of death and rot and damned decay and wretchedness-

STOP! Lupin put his hands to the side of his head as he drove the panic attack away. The headache grew even worse and Lupin wanted to find a dark place away from the light. He crawled - it made him queasy to stand - and scrambled off into the shade of a large maple. The leaves were brown and crisp, and floated down one by one. He huddled there and closed his eyes.

With each falling leaf, he could feel his memory return from the night before. He was at the tavern, yes, and drinking from those green glass bottles of absinthe. The bitter taste, the addictive taste- after the second bottle he made the bartender take a Sickle. It's real silver, m'lady, it's real silver, so get another bottle please! Drinking the bitter liquid fire, feeling the burn at the base of his stomach working throughout his body. 

And he was drunk, wonderfully drunk, and the room spun all around. Stumbling up, he had to leave; he didn't want to stay here and make a fool of himself. Slipping, falling, getting up, brushing off, heading out the door. Someone calls: need help over there? No, no, no, it's okay, all right. Slurring words. Out the door.

Night. Cold. Had he been in the tavern for that long? He felt dizzy and very sick. Look around. Danger. Danger. What danger? Something wrong, something very wrong....

The moon. Full and white.

Falling into the alley. Feeling the savage beast roar inside. No, no, no, not now, not yet, the people, he was a danger to the people, a danger...

Changing: fur growing, muzzle growing, tail sprouting, instinct coming, savagery mounting, human thoughts disappearing, human mind leaving... fading... gone... 

The world turned darker, less defined. The absinthe was still in his veins, still intoxicating. A savage moan. Hunger in his stomach where the alcohol was. Falling to the ground. Dizziness. Pain.

And a then girl, a little girl with blond curls. A little girl coming, golden child descending. Doggie... Are you okay...? Faint. All except for two thoughts, each oppressing and demanding at the same time.

Hunger.

Prey. 

And then blood of the girl became the blood in his mouth and screams! The girl screaming with blood, and blood all over and flesh! Taste the flesh of the child and hunger and blood and screams! Blood on his teeth, flesh of the child on his mouth!

Lupin shuddered. No, no, not true, not real, no, no, no, no! A hand went to his neck to grasp the silver crucifix, and grasped nothing. The holy cross was gone. _The chain_, he panicked, _the chain must have broke off. That's all. Broken off. Gone._

A quiet bubbling sound came to his ears. He perked his head up. What was that? He listened for a few more minutes. Water! He crawled away from his spot under the tree and headed toward the sound. 

A crystal stream bubbled and flowed not too far away. Lupin kneeled by the cool brook and splashed his face with water. He washed his hands and mouth, rubbed the water against the dark stains, drank the clear liquid in hasty mouthfuls. He splashed the water against his clothes as if blessing himself and got his hair wet as he tried lapping more and more water up with his tongue. 

When he had drunk his fill, Lupin sat back and watched as the brook flowed downstream. His reflection was seen in the water. It wasn't a pretty sight. His shirt was smeared with his attempts in washing the blood off. His hands and face were still wet, with his hair dripping in dark brown tendrils. He hadn't shaved in a while, and the brown stubble on his face made him look even more unkempt and dirty.

The smell of blood was still on him. It wasn't something that normal Muggles or even wizards could detect, but the musk scent filled his sensitive nose in a way only supernatural creatures knew. He hated it. The smell covered everything: his hands, his clothes, the surrounding area. Lupin thought about the times he had buried prey in his wolf form and didn't realize it until he stumbled upon the remains when he changed back. Could that girl's bones be somewhere..? He halted the thought and gagged, fearing that he might be sick again. But there wasn't really anything to regurgitate now, since his stomach was already emptied out. 

Lupin wished for his set of wizarding robes, but that was in his black case. And that was still by that back room table at the tavern. He would have to go back into town if he wanted to get his things.

He contemplated boarding onto the next train immediately and leaving Havenshire for good. He never wanted to see this place again. Yet everything he had in the world was in that case, including his wand. He'd have to go retrieve it.

Lupin took his time and didn't leave the forest until well into midday. He made sure that his jacket and shirt was as clean as possible, and combed his brown-gray hair roughly with his fingers. He was taking extra attention to his clothes to be sure that no spot of blood would be obvious to the passing eye. After that, he walked into town. He kept a doleful, indifferent manner about him, something he learned in his years of travel. If he kept to himself and acted just inconspicuously enough, no one would take note of him.

Upon entering the town, Lupin found it in stark contrast to the quiet, peaceful village he knew only yesterday. Three or four police cars were parked in the town square, and officers were abound. A couple television news vans were there too, with reporters interviewing fellow townspeople about what they heard the night before. The entire ten meter area around the church was fenced off with police tape. Forensic experts were already at there, taking blood and fur samples. Lupin diverted his gaze from the morbid scene.

He didn't realize that the Muggle police force would be involved with this. But of course they would! Lupin prayed that the Ministry of Magic would be able to cover this fiasco up for him. 

But wait, the Ministry of Magic..! The wizarding officers would be appalled by his actions! As soon as word gets out about an animal attack under such circumstances in the Muggle world, the Registry for Magical Creatures would look up any of its registrees for suspects. Lupin cringed, thinking of his registration number. 

And his chain! His chain with his father's cross and the dog tags! If anyone found those, wizard or Muggle, it would directly point him out as the guilty party. He was damned threefold: in body, in spirit, and in reputation.

On his way to the tavern, he stopped to see the minister and his wife come out of their home. The woman was crying profusely on the minister's shoulder, as he tried to retain a sense of composure about him that was obviously failing. The police sergeant was with them, talking softly. Lupin paled at the sight. Were they the girl's parents? A horrible dread built up, and he almost felt as if he could collapse right in the street. 

A small voice in his head suggested going up to the minister himself and confess. Confess and your sins will be forgiven. Lupin was tempted to do just that, to approach the couple and to say, "I murdered her." But how could he do such a thing? That would be exposing who he really was to the entire Muggle world. 

The minister looked up and, by chance, made eye contact with Lupin. Lupin stared right back at him. _I did it_, he thought softly. _I killed your daughter. I never, never meant to. It was an accident. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Please may you have mercy on my soul. May God have mercy on my soul. Please, forgive me, forgive me..._

"Excuse me, sir." 

Lupin nearly jumped as an officer put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm afraid you have to back away from tape," the officer said gently. Lupin looked up and saw the police chief descend the front steps alone. The minister and his wife had already gone back inside.

He blinked back his tears and turned away. "Sorry," he whispered hoarsely and headed for the tavern.

The place was empty other than for a few old men by the bar. It seemed as if all the attention was directed outside. Lupin came to his table and was relieved to see that his briefcase hadn't been taken. He grabbed it quickly and was about to walk out when the news from the mounted television stopped him.

"Today, police are investigating the site of a gruesome death in Havenshire," the lady reporter said from her front desk. Footage taken from just a few minutes ago showed the desecrated churchyard. In the background, Lupin swore he saw himself walking past the shot. He froze and listened to her report with a fluttering heart.

"Last night," the reporter continued, "at around six o' clock, 7 year-old Mary Grisham was outside the town church heading to her nearby home when she was apparently attacked by an unknown assailant. Her body was not found at the crime scene, but the splattered amounts of blood reveal that the girl most likely did not survive the assault. Police are puzzled about what could have happened. Some suspect that some wild animal from the nearby forests must have attacked her, but theories on what kind of animal it was is unknown. Currently, a special team of zoologists and veterinarians are being sent for from London's Bowingburg Center for Animal Research to help identify any possible animal DNA evidence found at the scene. In the meantime, police are warning the public of Havenshire and surrounding communities to stay inside their homes after dark until the animal is captured."

_She had a name,_ Lupin thought numbly. _Mary. Mary Grisham. The child had a name._

"Come back for another shot?" the bartender asked him from behind the counter. Lupin barely had composure to give her a polite refusal before leaving the tavern for as fast as he could go.

He had to get out of this town now! Sneak aboard the next train out. Leave England. Head to America even. Anywhere but here. 

Should he report to the Ministry? Deep inside he knew it was the right thing to do, yet he also knew that only one consequence would result from that. The wizarding public could only tolerate werewolves so much. How could they let him off the hook after what he did? Death would be waiting for him if he turned himself in. A death that he deserved. Yet still...

Lupin felt wretched with his ambivalent feelings. He was a murderer; he should die! And he wanted to die last night, hadn't he? But his fear wasn't contained in death itself, but what came after. He shuddered thinking about it, then became ashamed.

A murderer and a coward. He didn't want death. Too scared to bring it upon himself, too scared to face the consequences.

Nothing but a coward, a lone wolf wandering with his tail between his legs. 

"Sir?"

Lupin turned to confront a police sergeant. "Yes, officer?"

"I'm Sergeant Bailey, head investigator in this case. May I ask you a few questions, if you don't mind," the Sergeant said. He was a stout, clean shaven man with a stern face. Sergeant Bailey took out a notepad and pencil and looked at Lupin expectantly.

"Go ahead." Lupin replied calmly. He clenched the handle to his black case tighter.

"Name, please?" 

"Um... John Gardiner." Lupin replied. It was an alias he used often in the Muggle world.

"Are you a local resident of Havenshire, Mr. Gardiner?"

"No, I'm... I'm just traveling through here. Heading to Norwich on business," Lupin lied.

"May I request an address so I can get in contact with you later?"

"Um..." Lupin thought fast. "I have an apartment in Barbican Centre in London. 28B at 33 Lancaster Ave. I'm not there often, so I'll give you my cell phone number." He quickly called out a random list of numbers and a fake e-mail address to boot. Sergeant Bailey wrote those down, and Lupin felt relieved that he believed him.

"Well, Mr. Gardiner," the Sergeant said when he finished, "from accounts from other witnesses, you were outside around the time of the attack last night."

Lupin nodded mutely, thinking of those other drinkers at the bar. How many others have seen him? His heart, which was already beating hard in his chest, seem to speed up even more.

"They said that you seemed, um, a bit intoxicated during the time. I'm not discriminating you upon this in anyway, sir. Can you possibly verify anything suspicious going on then? Perhaps any wild animal calls or sightings?"

"Well...um... I don't really recall anything..." Lupin trailed off. He swallowed hard, trying to cover up his nervousness.

"That's understandable." Sergeant Bailey scribbled something in his notepad and Lupin felt the urge to rip it from his hands and see what he wrote. "Yet were you outside during the attack itself? Did you heard any screams or howling, perhaps?"

"Look, I don't really remember anything at all right now," Lupin said. He backed away from the officer. "I have to, uh, take the train in an hour or so, so maybe you can contact me later?"

"Mr. Gardiner," the Sergeant said seriously. "This is a very grave matter we have here. A little girl is presumed to be dead, possibly mauled by a wild animal. Any info-"

"I know that!" Lupin snapped. The Sergeant jumped back in surprise at this outburst. "How do you think this affects me??"

Sergeant Bailey stared at Lupin blankly. "Are you feeling all right?"

"No. I'm - I'm not all right at all," he answered. Lupin restrained himself from shouting again and calmed down. "I... I apologize, Sergeant," he said in a much softer tone. "It's just that I feel quite... uncomfortable at the moment. The results from drinking last night..."

Sergeant Bailey nodded sympathetically. "Must be rough knowing that you could have helped her," he said.

"If you only knew." Lupin turned away. "I'll be in Norwich later today. May we talk about this later?"

"Of course." The Sergeant handed Lupin a card. "This is the station's number and address. We'll keep in touch."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Lupin reached out to shake the man's hand.

Sergeant Bailey received his hand warmly. "Your welcome, Mr. Gardiner. Good day." His eyes trailed to the front of Lupin's jacket. Could he see the faded stains? Lupin hastily let go and turned away. 

"Good day to you." Lupin gave a backwards wave as he left the town square. As soon as he slipped from the officer's view, he ripped the card in half and threw the pieces to the ground. He then broke into a run and didn't stop until he left the town of Havenshire behind him.


	2. Redemption

For disclaimer and additional notes see part 1.

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Two: Redemption

by D.M.P.

***

Out of the depths have I cried out to thee, O LORD. Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications. If thou, LORD, shouldest mark inquiries, O LORD, who shall stand? But, there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared.

-Psalms 130:1-4.

***

Chapter 6

_She was holding the chain in her hand. A pale little waif in a blood-stained green jumper. She held the necklace away from her, letting it dangle in her chubby little fingers. "Child killer..." she said softly, her voice as faint as an echo. _

_Lupin kneeled in front of her, his hands clasped together. He had to reach her; she had to listen! He only wanted a sign from her, anything at all! Please! If only she would give him a glance, acknowledge his presence! Yet she wasn't listening to his calls, his pleas, his apologies. She just stared ahead, her little body rigid like a porcelain doll. Except that those bitter words flowed out mellifluously, like a ghostly chant. _

_"Please, I beg of you, listen!" he pleaded. _

_"Child killer..."_

_"I didn't mean to! I never meant to..."_

_"Child killer..."_

_Lupin abruptly turned away and threw his hands down. He could not beg any longer. "Hear me!" he yelled angrily._

_The girl's head suddenly snapped down to look at him. Her blond hair blew back from her face by an undetectable wind. "Damned fool..." The words sounded alien on a child's tongue, in that high, nimble voice. "Cursed beast from hell. Why should I listen?"_

_"That's not true!" Lupin protested. His voice echoed off into the darkness surrounding them. "I'm human! I'M HUMAN!"_

_"You never were..." The girl stared at him coldly. There was nothingness where her eyes should have been. "You were cursed since the day you were born..."_

Snap.

_The sound of a twig cracking. Lupin turned around and saw that he was in the forests outside Hogsmeade. How did he get here? Where did the girl go?_

_The man stepped out of the darkened trees. He was dressed in black, with knee-high leather boots and a utility belt of potions and magic items around his waist. The crossbow with the silver arrows was in his hands. He looked exactly like Lupin last remembered him._

_"Father!" Lupin tried to run to him, to plead with him, to convince him to tell he that he was human. But he couldn't move; it was like his feet were made of stone. "Father," he panicked, "you have to help me!"_

_However, the man did not speak. Instead, he raised up his crossbow and pointed it level to Lupin. He looked up and his eyes were blank and white just like the girl's. _

_"Father, listen to me!" Lupin wanted to say, but then he realized he couldn't speak anymore. He attempted to move again, and found himself on all four paws. Paws? Wolf! No! Lupin felt his desperation build. This was insane! He was human! But his protests were twisted into an wailing howl._

I'm your son, Remus!_ he thought wildly, unable to get the words out._

_"Stay back, monster," Father said in his gravest tone. He had his finger in the trigger mechanism. Three arrows were notched and ready to fire._

Father, no!

_"Burn in hell," the Auror whispered and let his arrows fly. _

***

Lupin stopped sleeping after that.

***

One, two, three days passed. Ever since that dream he had on the train to Cambridge, he refused to let his eyes close for a moment. Whenever he did relax and start to snooze, he would see that terrible ghost girl and would snap awake instantly. Yet moving on without sleep was torture; he knew he wouldn't last.

Lupin walked down the streets of Cambridge, wondering whether he should stop by the city's homeless shelter again. That was the first place he went when he made it to Cambridge. He had stayed there all day, slipping in and out repeatedly at the food lines, hoping that the workers didn't notice how he had appeared for more than one or two helpings. He had eaten more there than he had the entire week before.

The wind played with his hair and he zipped up his newly-acquired jacket, a gift from the shelter's donation box. The old, bloodstained clothing was thrown out long ago, in separate trashcans at various train stations, to help lessen the chances of the police finding them. News of the dead girl was fresh on everyone's mind, and he had the right to be wary. The fact that no one ceased talking about it on those train rides nearly drove him mad.

"Have you heard of that incident at Havenshire?" one passenger would say to her neighbor.

"Yes, such a shame, isn't it?" A hushed tone, as if the subject warranted it.

"Aye, and such a poor girl too. Heard she was a preacher's daughter. Happened right on the church grounds!"

"Where is the world coming to, with these wild animals about?"

"The creature should be shot, if the police ever find it!"

"Yes!" the other agreed enthusiastically. "These animals invading urban areas - they should all be exterminated!"

"But have you heard of the blood evidence? The specialists are puzzled about what kind of creature it is. A new species, they're speculating."

"Ha! Figures, with industrialization these days. Having mutants spring up out of those toxic wastes that England can't dump properly. New monsters coming out and killing us all!"

During those times, Lupin would just wish that those passengers would shut up.

He entered a small wooded park at the end of the street. Strolling down a random path, he stared at the grove of trees. No songbirds around now. The autumn foliage had begun to wither and droop, and the leaves were falling in droves. The crisp air was eerily still. 

Lupin came to a clearing and leaned on a small boulder near the middle of it. He was full, clean-clothed, and suffering from insomnia. He didn't know what he was feeling. Even that shadow of content was gone. 

Almost automatically, he reached inside his case for his family book. The Bible felt heavier in his hands than usual, and the special scent that he always associated with it was gone. He placed it in his lap and opened the leather cover. As always, he flipped to the first pages, filled with those various scripts of the family tree. Large, looping flourishes alongside tiny scribbles. Straight words next to tilting ones. Neat and messy, clean cut and coarse, the various names were laid out before him. All ending with his. Remus Jacob Lupin. 

He trailed his finger upwards along the line. Son to Ares and Rhea Silva. Grandson to Numitor and Vesta. And so on, and so forth...

Yet there was more to him than a name in a book. Remus Jacob Lupin. Victim to Lycaos. Murderer to Mary Grisham. Charlatan to Sergeant Bailey. Sinner to Reverend Grisham and wife. Damned to the world and to himself...

Damned. The word seemed to echo through his sleep-deprived mind. He was cursed. He was evil beyond evil. He killed a child, and she was now a part of him, literally and figuratively. She was dead, yet she still lived within him. Her death tainted his soul forever. Her flesh was his flesh, her blood, his blood. 

A cool breeze blew and Lupin felt a touch on his shoulder.

_Child killer..._

He looked behind him to see nothing but blowing leaves and autumn sky. Nothing. Was he hallucinating now? Or was she out to get him? Was her ghost hovering above, there to haunt him for all eternity?

The mere thought of her brought back the sound. It was fuzzy and unclear, as remembrances go, but vivid and piercing in his mind. They filled his head during the day when he couldn't sleep, worse than the pale face he saw when he dozed. 

Screams. 

She was screaming when jumped her. Wailing and struggling as he pinned her down, as he bent to rip her throat to stop her screams, just like how Lycaos tore out his father's voice. And she was crying in a shrieking tone, "Papa! Papa!!!"

He shut his eyes and saw her cherub face contorted in fear and pain. "PAPA!!!"

_Child killer..._

Lupin shut the book with a start and threw it upon the ground. "Damn it all," he spat darkly. He half-wished he could just scream it out loud for everyone to hear, but didn't even have the strength to do that. 

He kicked at the Bible and watched it flip over into a pile of leaves. It opened up halfway and the faint wind blew the pages about. "You're not there," he whispered to it. "You're a lie."

He stared up at the sky. It was light blue and cloudless. The sun was a bright, distant orb and its sunlight was filtered and spotted through the half-bare tree branches. 

"Twenty-nine years," he whispered. He paused to let the words sink in. "Twenty-nine years and where have I gone? What have I done? Was I protected? Was I safe?" All the tight emotion that could have been in those words were wrung out. He could not force any anger or grief or regret into them. Lupin was tired. That's all. He wanted to sleep.

"No." He bit on his lip and blinked hard. His vision blurred and he wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. He felt the vaguest spark of surprise; he didn't know that he still had the will to cry.

"Everyone in that book meant something, didn't they? Do _I_ mean anything???" he asked aloud. The first tear trailed down his face. 

"Were you there for me twenty-nine years ago...?" he asked in a louder, harsher voice. "Were you there for me four nights ago? Were you ever there for my mother, or my father, or Murphy, or Mary?? Are you there at _all_?!"

No one answered him. He swore loudly to the one who wasn't listening, to the dream girl who refused to listen to him, and to himself for not listening on a night all those years ago when he was told to stay home. 

Lupin reached for something that would listen.

_Click._

The gun felt like nothing in his grasp. He turned the little safety latch off. Control. He lost control of his life. This now was control of his death. 

"She was right," Lupin said bitterly. "I was cursed the day I was born."

He put the muzzle into his mouth and pressed it to the roof of his mouth, placed directly so that the bullet would lodge into the brain when fired. His tongue tasted the oily zinc and steel of hard metal. It had the same metallic texture as blood. He put his finger to the trigger and closed his eyes.

Lupin was tired. Time to sleep.

"Don't." 

The voice was not his.

He kept his eyes closed and his hand to the weapon. End it all, end it all, just sleep after this, just sleep, damn him, damn her, damn Lycaos, damn everyone, no faith, just sleep, just death, just sleep... sleep... death... hell... darkness... nothing.... sleep...

But he hesitated.

"Please, sir." The voice was high, hesitant, and extremely shaky, as if its user was going to break down at any moment. The sound of sniffles came to his ears. Was someone else crying?

Lupin opened his eyes and took the revolver out of his mouth. He felt the weight of the gun slip from his hand and drop to the ground. It hit with an unacknowledged thump beside the Bible. "Who's there?" he asked warily.

The shuffle of leaves stirred up by footsteps. The sound of someone running. A little figure turning from him at the edge of the clearing, and then vanishing among the skeleton trees.

"Wait!" Lupin said with sudden energy. He dashed to the front of the clearing at grabbed the person by the shoulder. The cloth was of a green jumper, and the figure was much smaller than him. 

Lupin recoiled instantly. "You!"

Her blue eyes were filled with tears and she shuddered and backed away also. "You were gonna-" she started weakly before collapsing all out into tears and falling to her knees. She put her hands to her face. A silver chain was entangled in her fingers, with his father's cross and the tags tapping against each other.

Lupin could only gape in shock at the little girl, resurrected. Mary Grisham had returned.

Chapter 7

Lupin was at a loss for words. He couldn't move or even breathe. The world began to spin; he thought he would faint. Slowly backing away, he felt his legs ready to bolt, but something told him not to. With nothing else to rely on, he stiffly fell to his knees and clasped his hands together. Yet his torrent of thoughts couldn't permit him a voice to speak with.

The little girl paid him no heed in this. When he finally got his bearings, Lupin broke his stance and attempted to approach her again, yet Mary scooted away and sobbed harder. "Papa!" she whispered plaintively. "Mama..!" 

Mary sat on the park ground with her knees drawn up to her chest, crying furiously into her hands. Her little shoulders shook with her sobs, and little wet spots from the tears fell upon her jumper. It was stained with dirt and rips all over it. Dark patches of black spotted the dress, the long dried remains of blood. Her hair, which was blonde and quite fine, became a tangled, brown-gold heap upon her head, the pigtails undone and the ribbons lost.

And then did Lupin see who Mary really was. Not a guilty conscience or a holy figure or a vengeful judge. Mary was Mary, a little girl who was all alone and crying and in wild need of her parents.

All his initial fear of her gone, Lupin crouched down next to Mary. "It's-it's all right, my dear," he whispered to her in his gentlest tone. "Nothing bad is going to happen now."

Mary raised her head and looked at Lupin with brimming eyes. Then she just shook her head rigidly and began weeping again. Lupin felt uncomfortable just watching Mary cry like that, and tried once more to put a hand on her shoulder. She shrank back.

"No guns," she said quickly.

"What?"

"Guns are very bad." She was crying so hard that she hiccuped when she said this. Lupin looked over at where the Colt .45 revolver lay. 

"I'll put it away," he said, trying to ease her distress. He got up, and Mary's gaze followed him to the spot where the weapon lay. He picked it up and opened the chamber. Mary gasped at this, and Lupin quickly took out the silver bullet and dropped both items separate into the case. His foot touched the Bible and he stared at it for a few moments, then back at Mary. Wordlessly, he put away the family book. Then, ever so slowly, he made his way back to Mary, both hands slightly in the air to show that he didn't carry any other weapons back with him. He was relieved to see Mary calm down a bit with this act. He sat back down a few feet away from her.

"That better?" he asked.

Mary nodded slightly. 

Lupin was actually glad that he had deterred her fear. This was the first true emotion he had felt in three days.

"You feel more up to talking now?"

Mary looked away, suddenly shy again, and her hiccups grew worse. She didn't dare turn her face to him, and Lupin felt oddly ashamed because of this. Then, Mary explained herself very quietly, in a voice that was almost inaudible. Lupin had to lean in close to hear her, and she permitted him to do so.

"Papa says guns are a-a," she struggled with the words. "Safety hazard," she finally said then sniffed. "He said he saw (sniff) a l-l-lady die (hic) like that (sniff sniff). I r'member. He (hic) locked his-self (sniff) upstairs for a long time. When he came back out, he gets all worried and scared a lot. I'm scared about guns too." She stared quickly back down again, hugging her knees. "No guns, 'kay?" she pleaded timidly.

He immediately agreed. "No guns." 

A lingering silence descended upon the two after that. A million and one questions flooded through Lupin's mind. Was Mary really here? Was this her ghost? If she was alive, how did she survive the attack? How did she follow him here? Why does she have his chain with her? 

Yet it didn't seem right to plague the poor girl with so many questions all at once. So he simply smiled and asked, "You hungry?"

She gave another small nod. 

"C'mon then," Lupin got up. "I know a place where we can get you something to eat and some new clothes."

Mary didn't move, undecided. _Well, he put away the gun_, she thought_. I don't want him to hurt anyone. But he looked so sad when I saw him. He was gonna hurt himself really badly, just like that lady did._ Mary was afraid he was going to take the gun out again later. To her, his was a confused and frightening stranger; she couldn't trust him. Yet she didn't want to see history repeated. Maybe she should make sure he doesn't do that again. 

"Okay," she said delicately, her voice barely above a whisper. She got to her feet and stood there silently. 

Lupin tried to make the best of the situation and mustered up all the warmth he could when he spoke. "First, we're going to have to get you some new clothes." he said softly. "You feel up to coming with me?"

The girl seemed to cease speaking and could only move her head in faint response to his words. A little nod and they made their way slowly down the path.

If a passerby were to watch them together, they would have been mistaken for father and daughter. Yet the scene was a mockery of family or anything even remotely related to companionship. Little wonder, how could either of them feel completely comfortable after what they had just been through? Mary walked slow and trailed behind him like a second shadow as they made their way to the shelter. Lupin tried to accommodate for this and walk next to her but without success. Every time he slowed his pace so did she and Lupin didn't dare address this minuscule concern. He had the most disquieting feeling about all of this, especially since Mary seemed intent upon staring directly at him as he walked. He turned his head more than once on that short walk to see if she was still behind him, and each time he did, she quickly averted her gaze. 

They headed for an intersection outside the park. Lupin walked a few paces ahead and stopped at the crosswalk, checking for cars. Mary stayed back, watching him. A fleeting thought of holding hands while crossing the street (one of Reverend Grisham's many safety precautions) darted through her mind. She hesitated a bit. His sadness scared her and so did his shouting. Mary wanted nothing more than to find Papa and jump into his arms. But she was lost and alone and with a man who scared her in his grief.

_He's like the lady, _she thought_. Both were sad... _She thought of what her mama said, of how her father tried to stop the lady from killing herself. Mary knew she had no where to go. And she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could help this poor man, just like her father tried to help_._ Maybe he could take her back home, and her papa could talk to him._ He'll know what to do,_ she thought, taking a brave stance. 

Lupin felt someone put a little hand in his and glanced down at Mary quickly in surprise. She was staring demurely at the ground. He pressed his fingers against the smallness of her palm. She wasn't a ghost, that was for sure. They crossed the street soon enough, but Mary still held on. It was reassuring to know that Mary trusted him now, and Lupin was surprised that she accepted him so suddenly.

Mary didn't say a word about the transition, and Lupin didn't expect her to. _Children need the comfort of another's presence_, he decided to himself. _Just as adults need that comfort as well._

He smiled. He was not sure if this was safe to admit, but he was beginning to like this little girl. Or maybe it was the touch of her hand in his that made him feel a bit of his former melancholy leave him. At the moment Mary needed him, and that was what Lupin wanted: to feel needed. The only other time he felt that was when he taught at Hogwarts. Once again, Lupin had a place in the world again, even if was only a momentary one, and he was glad for this.

"What's your name?" Mary asked unexpectedly, looking up.

Lupin didn't realized that they hadn't even properly introduced themselves; probably because since he already knew her name, he did not think do that.

"Oh, well, I forgot that we don't even know each other, haven't I?" he replied, overcoming this blunder. Mary brought her eyes to the ground, quickly-becoming the typical response. 

"I'm Remus Lupin," he introduced. He was going to add something like, "But you can call me Mr. Lupin," reminding her of the common courtesy children paid their elders, yet he thought it was foolish to say such a thing to her. The only time anyone ever called him "Mister" were those wizards who addressed him with scorn in their voices and sneers on their faces, as if trying defacing his humanity by acknowledging him with bathos.

"Re-mis?" Mary attempted. 

"Oh," he said with a bit of embarrassment, "You can call me Prof-"

Mary tried again. "Remmy," she said confidently. "Remmy Lupin."

Lupin was taken back with the mention of his childhood name. "Um, well.." he started awkwardly, then paused. "All right then," he agreed. "Remmy it is."

Mary beamed at him and both felt that a great gap was suddenly breached between them. "My name is Mary Grisham," she said in return, unknown to the fact that Lupin already knew who she was all too well. 

Lupin stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and let go of Mary's hand for a moment it offer a handshake. "To make this a proper introduction," he explained. "Pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Miss Grisham." He took her hand and shook it solemnly. 

She giggled at this display. "You can call me Mary," she said.

Chapter 8

Mary was watching him again. He slept not far from her, but not too close to make her feel uncomfortable. He snored slightly too, though not too loudly. Just loud enough to let her know that she wasn't alone. 

The darkness from the night before was vanishing from the sky, and the air was cool and tinged with grays and pinks of the pre-dawn morning. Dark, tall silhouettes of the surrounding trees cast shadows in the half-light. A chill seeped into the early morning air; that was what had woken Mary up. 

They didn't have much luck in the search for beds at the shelter the night before, so Lupin opted for them to head for the park again. However, the ground was hard and there were no benches, so Mary was obstinate about sleeping outside. To compensate, Lupin offered her the blanket and some robes to use as a makeshift mattress. Now that Mary was awake and refreshed, she noticed how he had slept on the bare ground for the sake of her comfort. She felt her face flush in the guilt of not sharing. 

Lupin was dozing in the manner of a wolf, curled over to one side with his head tucked under one arm. In the half-light one would almost mistake this person for a sleeping animal. Mary quickly crawled over with the blanket in hand and clumsily draped it over his sleeping form in an attempt to make up for her selfish behavior. Scurrying quickly back to her spot, she saw him sigh and unconsciously wrap the cloth tighter around him.

Mary didn't know what to think of his person whom she called Remmy. He was nice, she thought, although still very sad. The feeling emanated off him like light from a candle. She wished that she could make him feel better. Maybe the blanket helped. She hoped so. 

Mary saw the black case by his side and wondered about the gun. It gave her chills just thinking about it being there, and she tried to pretended it wasn't. But nothing could draw her away from that fact that one was so near.

It reminded her of the gunshot. The same sound that Reverend Grisham heard in his mind every full moon, because that day the incident happened was the day of the full moon.

_Sitting near the back pews, Mary held the rag doll in her hands. Moving it along the bench, she greeted, "Hallo, Elizabeth."_

_"Well, hallo to you to, Lydia." Suzy kneeled on the floor, holding her doll up on the bench as well. "Like my hat? I just got it from London the other day."_

_"That is so pretty!" Mary complimented in her most adult voice. "May I ask which store you got it from?"_

_"It was a boo-tick. A French place," Suzy moved her doll back and forth along the polished wood as if strutting along a catwalk. "It cost a lot too."_

_"Maybe we could go there today so I can get one?"_

_"Certainly, Lydia. I think there's one that matches your dress. A very pretty green."_

_"Suzy!"_

_Both girls looked up as Suzy's mother approached. "We have to go now dear," she said, "We have to go visit your grandmother today."_

_"Oh. Okay..." Suzy got up to her feet. _

_"Honey...!" Suzy's mother sighed. "You got dust all over your dress!" Her mother quickly brushed a hand over her daughter's skirts and took her hand. "You have to be more careful," she chided sternly._

_"Sorry," the girl said sheepishly. She brushed Elizabeth's flaxen locks and stared down at her feet. _

_"Well, come along then," the mother replied briskly, "You can change when we get home."_

_Suzy gave a backwards wave as her mother dragged her out of the chapel. "Bye Lydia. Bye Mary."_

_"Bye Suzy!" Mary called._

_Suzy's mother bid farewell to Reverend Grisham who stood at the corrway of the church. "Have a good day, Father," she said._

_Reverend Grisham took her hand and clasped his other on top. Giving a hearty shake he replied, "And a wonderful afternoon to you as well." After the two left, he walked down the aisle and picked up the collection basket near the front of the room. Passing by Mary, he ruffled her hair. "Planning to take Lydia out to the city, are we?"_

_"She has to get a new hat," Mary annouced with utmost importance. "And Suzy got a new playhouse today too. Can I come over and see it when she comes back from her gran'ma's?"_

_"Of course, lamb. You want to go home for lunch now? I have the collection to do."_

_Lamb was Papa's nickname for her, for the song "Mary had a little lamb" was a bedtime favorite since the girl's infancy. _

_"Can I stay here?"_

_The Reverend leaned down and kissed Mary on the top of her head. "Why not. Come into the office?" There was a large machine in the back room that sorted out the change from collection. Sometimes, Mary liked to watch her father pour the flood of coins into the counter's wide basin and see them change and whirl about as they were sorted neatly into paper-covered rolls._

_Mary shook her head. She secretly wanted to go up into the bell tower, a place that was off-limits. A couple days ago, she discovered a crow that had taken shelter there. The poor bird had a broken wing, and she wanted to check up on it. Maybe she could help make it better._

_"I just wanna play out here with Lydia," she told him._

_"All right then. I'll ring up your mother." Her father dainty touched the tip of her nose with a forefinger - he always did that - and slipped into his office, leaving the door ajar. Mary sat still in her position at the pew. Can he see her? If she snuck off then, would he notice? Mary leaned over from her seat at the edge and looked toward the doorway. If she can see him from there, then certainly he could spot her. _

_"Excuse me."_

_Mary jumped, startled. A woman in a cream-colored dress stood next to her, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder. How did she get there?_

_The lady looked a bit older than Mama, with her wispy black hair tied up in a tight bun on her head. She had very sad eyes, as if she were going to break into tears. A little handbag was in her hands._

_"Do you know where the Reverend is?" she asked in a soft voice._

_Mary could only nod mutely and pointed toward the door. She had never seen her around church before. She could be from London, Mary decided to herself. Having lived in Havenshire all her young live, Mary associated anything outside the village as "London."_

_"Thank you, child." As the lady went past her, Mary noticed how quiet she walked, not making a sound even in high heels on a wooden floor. Her step was that of a ghost walking. The woman slipped into the room and shut the door behind her._

_Now was her chance. Her father would be too busy with her to even think about Mary. The girl slipped from her seat at the pew and slowly tip-toed across the front of the chapel to where the stairs were. Her eyes focused on the closed door, just in case her father should come back out._

_Yet a shout from the room stopped her. A muffled cry._

_"Miss, please!"_

_Papa?_

_Another voice - the woman's - shouted something, but the cry was too distaught to make out. Mary stood frozen at the altar, right before the podium. The woman continued her outburst. Her voice rose and fell, but Mary couldn't make out what she was saying. Papa's voice she barely heard, muffled through the door._

_"Calm down.... Don't... leave it..."_

_The woman only shouted louder at whatever he was saying. Mary felt her heart race faster. All thoughts about the belltower were wiped away. What was going on there....? Holding Lydia tightly, she walked up to the door. The shouting was growing louder and louder, and Mary could make out more words...._

_"Fuck this place....! Can't you... that.... damn.... heaven.... shit...!"_

_Mary covered her ears. The woman was saying bad words! And in front of Papa! No one ever talked like that with him. She backed up a few steps towards the double doors. No one should ever talk like that! Maybe she should get out. Maybe she should get Mama. Maybe she-_

_Bang! _

_The gunshot resonated throughout the church. Mary fell back as if she was pushed. On the floor, she scurried backwards toward the base of the first pew and buried her head in her arms. What was that? What was that? She started shaking uncontrollably. What was that sound? What was that? Papa...? Mama...? _

_Minutes passed and no movement came from the closed door. Why was it so quite? Should she open it? Should she get Mama? _

_Before she could make a move, the door opened with a haunting creak. Mary lifted her head. "Papa...?"_

_A hand gripped the side of the doorway and Reverend Grisham stumbled out. He fell on his hands and knees, gripped the side of the door, and raised his head. His eyes were wide and frightened and his mouth kept opening and closing, as if he was learning how to speak. "Oh... oh.. oh.. God..." He got to his feet only to fall on his knees again. Putting both hands to his head, he moaned aloud. _

_Mary watched, frightened. She never saw her father act this way before...._

_He met her bewildered stare and seemed to see her for the first time._

_"Oh Mary!" Her father rushed up to her with unsteady legs and scooped the girl up into his arms. "Mary, Mary, little lamb..." He said her name like a mantra, holding her as tightly as she held Lydia. "My little lamb, my girl, oh God, my God..."_

_"What's happened? Papa, where's the lady?" Mary kept asking. "Papa, Papa, where did the lady go...?"_

_"Mary, oh God... Mary..." Her father held her tighter. He took a couple of shaky steps, gripping the pew for support. "Mary, Mary help me... have to... have to.... Ambulance...!"_

_The declaration suddenly jumpstarted a burst of wild energy, and Papa ran out of the front doors of the church with Mary in his arms. "Ambulance... ambulance... ambulance..." he kept repeating to himself in an almost frenzied tone. _

_Running down the steps outside, Reverend Grisham yelled, "Somebody..! S-somebody call an ambulance!!!"_

_Mary could only ask in a confused voice, "Papa, where did she go? Papa, where did the lady go...?"_

_He never answered her. _

_Afterwards, when Reverend Grisham locked himself up in his room and refused to speak for days, Mama explained what happened. That lady was very upset about many things in her life, she said, and she was so upset she wanted to die. The lady went to ask her father forgiveness before she died, and he tried to stop her, but it was too late. The lady had a gun in her purse and shot herself._

_"Did she want to go to heaven?" Mary had asked. "That why she wanted to die? 'Cause she wanted to go now?" The girl was barely five years old then, and life seemed to last forever. _

_Her mother pursed her lips. "It's not like that..." Mama replied. "You can't go to heaven just because you want to. You have to be good person."_

_"But wasn't she a good person?"_

_Mama sighed and wrinkled her forehead. She looked too old when she did that._

_"Well, wasn't she?" Mary persisted. "Maybe she was only so sad and she wanted to be happy. Everyone can be happy when they're in heaven."_

_"Hurting yourself isn't the way, Mary..." Mama brushed her dark blond bangs back away from her eyes and blinked rapidly. She was holding back tears. Mary could tell that she felt uncomfortable talking about this, but she wanted to know the truth. _

_"Then she's not there...?" Mary bit her lip. It wasn't fair! If the lady was so sad and she believed, didn't she deserve to go to heaven?_

_Her mother was silent for a long time. From upstairs, the constant creak-creak-creak was heard. The house was so old that the floorboards in some of the rooms groaned when you walked on them, sending the house shuddering. Papa must be pacing the room again._

_Mama told her that he was talking with God now, asking if he did the right thing. He had been up there for the last week. Papa wouldn't even come down for meals; Mama had to carry them up. _

_At the sound of the floorboards, Mama looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. "God willing, she is in a better place now," Mama finally replied. "But hurting yourself is a horrible, horrible thing, Mary. It not only hurts yourself, but everyone you know. Promise me you'll never do such things, or tell your papa and me if anyone thinks of hurting themselves?" She blinked again and a tear dropped down and fell onto Mary's skirt. Mama turned away and brushed her hand along her eyes._

_Mary stared at the ground, pretending not to see her mother crying. Nothing seemed fair. She shouldn't have to cry like this. Papa shouldn't have to lock himself away like this. Why was it all happening? Because one woman was too sad to live. Mary couldn't understand it. It was almost like that lady's pain was trapped inside of her, and when she died it exploded everywhere, hurting everyone. It wasn't fair for anyone to kill themselves. Mary didn't like to feel such pain. None of them deserved it. Not that lady, not Mama or Papa or anyone._

_"I will, Mama," she promised. "I will."_

Mary hugged her knees to her chest with the set of old robes. They smelled of pine and summer forests, a scent she liked. Mary decided that Lupin could keep the blanket to sleep with and she could settle for the robes. The decision made her feel a bit better. Mary already had a new coat a size too big for her anyway, and a nice blue denim dress too. 

Those clothes had come from the shelter's donation box. They had gone there after the incident in the park yesterday to clean Mary up and get her something to eat. The place didn't have showers or any available beds, but Lupin had shown her how to get by well enough. The donation box at the time was put in one of the locked storage rooms with the food, for its contents were usually sent to a charity fund rather than given out on the spot. Lupin had told Mary to wait at one of the tables in the eatery and slipped off. Ten minutes later, he was back with some things about her size. Mary never knew that Lupin was technically stealing those. Then again, Lupin always reasoned that these clothes were donated for people like him and no intermediary was needed. He wasn't stealing, only getting by.

After Mary had changed, he showed her how to look as presentable as possible using the public restrooms. Using the sink, he explained how Mary could wash her hair in five minutes and clean herself in less than fifteen. Someone older would have wondered how long Lupin has been living on the streets with such adaptations like these. Mary didn't; instead, she thought he was one of the cleverest people she had ever known.

Following the wash, Lupin taught her how to sneak through the food lines so that you can get away with more than the single helping they give. They didn't really need to do so, however, since once the workers saw the little girl, they offered a lot more than usual.

At the table, Lupin had watched her eat and asked her several questions. How did she get here? Did she know where that necklace she held came from? Did she remember anything before meeting him?

Mary tried answering as well as she could. The night outside the church.... she couldn't remember much, only that of a large dog jumping her. She had reached out to fend it off, and grabbed the chain instead. During the struggle it must have broken off, and she still kept it with her. Lupin had looked especially uncomfortable during this talk, and Mary wanted to get it over with. When Lupin asked for the chain, she gave it to him willingly and said he could keep it if he wanted to. Lupin had nodded and tucked the chain into his pocket.

She then admitted to following him, although she didn't know why or how exactly she did it. All she could recall was a special scent, and whenever she detected that scent, she followed it. It was overpowering urge to follow that smell, and Mary had only to oblige. In search for the source of the scent, she had traveled with utmost caution and secrecy that she never knew she had possessed before. All of her actions were guided by an instinct that she was never aware of until then. 

The birds from surrounding trees burst out in song as the sun brew brighter. Lupin shifted in his sleep, muttering something under his breath. Mary instantly ducked under the robes, pretending to be asleep. She didn't want Lupin to know that she watched over him so much.

***

Lupin rolled over to his stomach and sighed. Morning's early presence had woken him up and he opened his eyes. For a split second, he was startled to see someone sleeping close to him, but as his head cleared he remembered who she was. Mary Grisham, the girl he had thought he killed.

Yet she wasn't dead nor was she a ghost. She was right there, curled up in sleep, peaceful as an angel. Lupin felt something warm touch his heart at the innocent sight, followed by grief. There was one question that plagued his mind that he dared not ask yesterday: did she receive any wounds from the attack? Deep inside he knew the answer.

Mary Grisham was a werewolf and he was her maker.

This would explain all the gaps that were in her story. For instance, the only way she could have survived the attack was the same reason he had survived his with Lycaos: both were spared because they tasted of purity. True innocence could be the only natural defense during a werewolf attack; a werewolf can easily kill a child, but if the child was innocent enough, that purity can repel a werewolf from taking the final blow. It was similar to the concept of a wild unicorn being tamed by a pure-hearted virgin. 

As for the werewolf bite, it must have healed overnight, like most inflicted wounds from were-creatures. Mary would naturally have no memory of the bite itself; whether the memory was erased through magic or trauma Lupin couldn't be sure. 

Her animal instincts, however, were instantly triggered with the bite. Her sense of smell, for example, intensified so that she was able to track down individual scents. Lupin had that ability too and invoked it years ago when he was looking for Lycaos. However, Mary had a much better chance at finding him than he did his maker because his scent was fresh.

The only thing Lupin couldn't sort out was why Mary pursued him so immediately after the attack. The only thing he could think of was the wolf's instinct to find other pack members, which was particularly strong in pups. 

A little voice in the back of his mind, however, said differently. The fact that Mary was living was nothing short of a miracle. It was almost like she came back from the dead. Resurrection, the voice said, the minister's daughter was resurrected. A second chance she was, a second chance for him... 

Second chance?She was just as cursed as him; how could he help her? Lupin had no idea.

One thing was for sure, though. Mary could never go back to her home. The Muggle world thought her three days dead already, and too many questions would arise if she were suddenly to appear at Havenshire again. Also, the werewolf curse was still upon her, something that there was no solid cure for.

"Mary?" Lupin called softly. The girl instantly lifted her head, too quickly to say that she was asleep before. Lupin felt a bit of self-consciousness; he hoped that she hadn't noticed that he was watching her.

"Hi Remmy," she said cheerfully, sitting up. All the awkwardness from the day before seemed to have melted away.

"Hello there." Lupin got up and noticed he was holding the blanket. "Oh, did I-" he started, but Mary shook her head.

"Keep it," she said. "You looked cold so I gave it to you." She sounded proud at this little accomplishment.

"Oh." Lupin gave her a kind eye as he gathered up the makeshift bedclothes and folded them up into his case. 

Lupin took out a half a dozen rolls wrapped in napkins and shared them with Mary. As they broke their fast, Lupin said to her, "Today, we're going to hitch a ride to London."

"Really?" Mary's eyes grew big. "I never, ever been there before. It's the capital, right?"

"Correct." Lupin took a bite of a roll. "Hitching rides isn't an easy task," he said after he swallowed. "Have you ever taken a train before?"

Mary shook her head.

"Well, then I'll explain to you how when we get to the station."

Chapter 9

Mary had an uncomfortable feeling that what they were about to do wasn't right. But Lupin had told her to do so and she trusted him. She knew that he wasn't going to hurt himself now, and she felt happy. Her papa would have been proud of her if he knew. Mary wondered when she'd ever see him and her mama again. She could ask Remmy later about it, she decided. A little longing was in her heart; she missed her parents. 

The station was packed with bustling people heading in various directions. Hustled families, hurried businessmen, foolhardy teenagers, and many more were all on the move, as if getting to their destination was as vital as life itself. Mary stood by the side entrance of the station, looking at the various platforms. She kept her eye on the dark burgundy train, making sure she wouldn't make a mistake and run to the wrong train when the time came.

She checked on one of the large clocks at were placed on the ticket purchase desk. Mary didn't know how to tell time exactly, but Lupin had told her when the long handle was on the ten, she should start. Squinting her eyes, she could see the hand of the clock move slowly. It was almost there.

One of the trains bellowed as it started up. The guards at each of its doors were closing up as the last passengers scurried inside. Mary looked distractedly at it for a moment, then back at the clock again. It was time.

As fast as her little legs could go, Mary ran through the crowd, slipping and weaving through the people with the skill only a child has. She came to the entrance of the first passenger car and immediately bumped into the guard, who was just coming out. The two fell to the ground, the pieces of paper flying everywhere. The guard cursed and got up to see Mary dazed on the ground.

"Oh, are you okay?" the guard asked, concerned. Mary didn't answer and put a hand to her head. She must have crashed into him harder than she meant to.

"Miss?"

Mary looked up abruptly and suddenly forgot the lines she was suppose to say. She stuttered unsurely as she tried to remember.

"I'm...I'm... l-looking for someone!" she suddenly said, the practiced dialogue coming back to her. "I mean, I lost my ticket! And, uh, my daddy! I lost him too." Her tone sounded a bit forced, but the guard seemed to sympathize with her nonetheless.

"Well, this train'll be leaving in a few minutes," he said. "Is your daddy in there?"

Mary nodded vigorously and said, "We're heading to London. I think he went in here..." She looked down in confusion, mixing up the lies she was telling with her real situation. _Was_ this the right train? What if it was actually the other one that was leaving already? Then she'll be stranded there for real! 

The guard mistook her confusion for fear of losing her parent. "C'mon now," he said in a friendly manner, taking Mary's hand. "This one goes to London. Let's go look for him."

"Um..." Mary said unsurely as the guard escorted her on board. She hoped she was doing this right.

The guard talked into his hand-held radio to the conductor of the train. "Hey, I got a girl who looking for her dad. He might be on board, so could you hold for a moment?"

"Sure," was the fuzzy response.

Inside the first car, the guard said, "Now, just tell me when you spot your father, all right?" Mary nodded and scanned the aisle nervously, hoping Lupin would show up.

***

Maybe he should have Apparated them instead. Certainly it would have made things easier. However, Apparation for such a long distance is extremely risky. And there was the girl. He couldn't do it, not with her watching.

Lupin planned to go to London, but taking a second person made this usually easy task very impromptu. Usually he snuck into the restroom facilities, before sneaking off to the passenger train claim a compartment. Hitching rides was quite simple this way, for he personally refused to use any magic in front of Mary. Lupin wanted to talk to her about magic first, to clear up any misconceptions and the like. Knowledge of the wizarding world was something quite serious to reveal to a Muggle, and being only a child, he could imagine her telling the whole train about it less than halfway before they reached their destination. 

Watching from a few meters away, he saw Mary and the train attendant collide together. Taking out his wand, he quickly retrieved two of the fallen tickets for his personal use. The sounds of the crowded station blocked most of his hearing, and he could only make out empty words and gestures, then the guard taking Mary inside. 

He slipped onto the train after them and open the door to the first compartment. Empty. What luck. Lupin didn't feel like sharing with Muggle strangers.

He let out a sigh of relief that the hard part of the job was over. He worried that Mary hadn't done her part correctly and she could have been sent to the station manager's office. He could never leave her alone in that situation. Already in the little time they'd known each other, Lupin felt a strong duty to protect this child. After all, he was her maker.

When she entered the cabin, he expressed a double meaning of relief when he saw her. "You're safe!" He gathered her up in his arms and turned to the other guard. "Thank you for finding her," he said gratefully.

"No problem, sir," the guard said nonchalantly. "You have your tickets?" 

"Almost forgot." Taking out the stolen tickets, he handed them to the guard. "Here you go."

"All right then." The guard tipped his cap at them as he took his leave. "Have a nice time in London," he said as he got off the train. 

The two slipped into a nearby seat as the doors were closed. The heavy noise of the train starting up was heard and they both lurched forward a bit as the train started to move. They had successfully snuck on board the train.

"You did a wonderful job, Mary," Lupin whispered to her with a little confidential gleam in his eyes.

Mary smiled. "I didn't know hitching rides was so much fun!" she said. "But, Remmy, why didn't we just go in like all the other people I saw?"

"Well..." Lupin thought about lying to her too, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. He fidgeted with his hands a bit and said truthfully, "Um, Mary, we had to trick the guards into letting us in because we have no money to pay for the tickets." He waited for her response, but added quickly, "It's how I hitch train rides all the time."

Mary bit her lower lip. "Didn't that mean we were stealing a ride? By not paying for it?"

"I wouldn't call it stealing exactly," Lupin explained uneasily. "We're only taking what we need and nothing more. We're not selfish."

"How 'bout all those other people who need stuff but don't steal anything?" Mary questioned. She remembered the charity funds the church held so often, raising money for the poor. "It doesn't seem fair if you take something while others don't."

Lupin looked pointedly at her and sighed. He gave his response in a tired voice. "Rules," he said seriously, "like the one against stealing, only aim to create fairness for everyone. Yet the world isn't like that. I learned, actually, that life isn't quite fair at all." He put his hand on his case, where his family book was. "People like to hear about fairness and justice, but it's all a lie," he said. "I was one of them. It took me twenty-nine years to learn the truth, Mary. I tried to be a fair as I could, but something happened that-" He looked out the window and paused for a moment. "Well, sometimes there are little things you have to do in life to get by."

Mary shook her head in the stubbornness of youth and naiveté. She didn't understand how her Remmy could think like that; she was raised to believe the opposite. "I don't get it. You can't. It's just _wrong_-" she started, but didn't know how to go on. Being on this train counts against her then, didn't it? She sighed and sat facing the aisle, refusing to talk anymore.

Lupin leaned back in his seat and looked out the window. _Prove to me what is right or wrong_, he thought. _I don't know anything anymore._

"Let's just forget all about this," he said softly. 

Yet neither of them ever did.

***

Reverend Grisham watched as the London train left the station from his window seat. For a split second, he thought that he saw something that startled him, but the train whizzed by too quickly, and he could not recall what it was afterward.

His wife sat by his side as they waited for their train to start up again. The train from Havenshire was taking a short stop at Cambridge to take on additional passengers before making its way to Brighton.

Time moved all too swiftly. They had also moved too swiftly in their actions, hadn't they? Barely four days passed and here they were. Putting the house up for sale, resigning from the position at the church, practically abandoning their former lives. But they needed to do this. It was too much to stay. The Lord's grace had helped him be strong before, when that bloody suicide happened. Reverend Grisham could believe that the Lord had saved that poor woman's soul. However, to live in the place already touched by death twice, to preach in a church fifty yards from where his daughter died... that he couldn't bear. 

Dear God, if only the Reverend knew he was doing the right thing!

Three days.... The news of her death wasn't even out of the papers and they decided to head out of town. No memorial, no funeral. Maybe when he and Janet arrived at Brighton and met up with the rest of his family, a service would be held. But not now. 

Janet held his hand supportively. They had been silent for the past twenty minutes while sitting on that train, waiting for it to move, and she asked him, "Kevin, what are you thinking?"

"You know what I'm thinking," he replied in a grave whisper.

Bowing her head, she took a deep breath and said, "We're doing the right thing, you know."

"I know, Janet."

"We couldn't stay at Havenshire."

"Yes, I know."

"I couldn't stand it there... and I know you couldn't either..." She swallowed hard. "Too many bad memories." She thought of that woman who committed suicide in their church a year ago. That was a foreshadowing, she was sure, of more bloodshed to come. And now their daughter.... She sniffed and stared at the ceiling, trying to blink back the tears. 

"And so we're leaving," Reverend Kevin Grisham said gruffly. He looked over at her. Brushing his hand against her cheek he lovingly wiped her tears away.

"We'll make a new start," Janet said optimistically. She matched his grieving look with her own. She couldn't blame him for her death. She didn't want to. Even though he was so close... Mary's death, it seemed too sudden. A ruthless act of nature. Janet blamed nature, not her husband. "It's only for a couple of months on sabbatical. Then you got that new position waiting for you with the new congregation, and we could live with your sister until we get a house of our own. It'll be a brand new life."

"Yet.... it would have been nice to stay at Havenshire..." the minister said wistfully, beginning to feel uncertain of their decision. "Mary would have seemed so much closer to us..."

Janet didn't respond to that immediately. Finally, she said in a gentle voice, "Sometimes I feel that she is still here."

"In spirit?"

"No, not exactly..." Janet paused, trying to find the right words. "I feel," she said, "as if Mary is still in the world, just out of reach..."

Reverend Grisham pulled his wife close and the silence descended upon them again. And so, they headed off to Brighton, when just a few minutes before, the Reverend had witnessed his daughter leaving in another direction.


	3. A Place to Stand

For disclaimer and additional notes see part 1.

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Three: A Place to Stand

by D.M.P.

***

There is a certain amount of kindness, just as there is a certain amount of light ... We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand, and it is no good moving from place to place to save things; because the shadow follows us. Choose a place where you won't do harm-- yes, choose a place where you won't do very much harm, and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine.

-E.M. Forester

***

Chapter 10

Life in London was much better than Lupin could have expected. The shelters, of course, were considered some of the shabbiest - and some of the most extraordinary - homeless centers in England. The city was so large and the people were so generous that two or three ramshackle buildings were paced in the most disgusting places in town, ready for any thug or drug dealer to bunk in. But, in all seriousness, Lupin didn't mind at all. He had gone to London for the winter almost all the years he traveled abroad in the Muggle world. He could rough it out, more or less.

With Mary, however, it put a whole new spin on things. Lupin soon realized that they had become a much more vulnerable target with her by his side. People noticed a child, and he didn't like the looks Mary was getting from some of the vagrants they passed in the alleyways. Most were harmless, but there were some who preyed on women and children that lived on these streets. He couldn't risk Mary getting hurt.

And what other choices did he have? His childhood home was quickly sold after he and Murphy had left Hogsmeade, and he had never enough money saved to buy another permanent residence, only rent during fortunate times. Hogwarts could be a safe place, but since the Triwizard Tournament was being held there, the place would be swarming with Ministry officials. He had committed the crime of attacking a human - a Muggle no less - and this could put both he and Mary in danger, even if there was no actual death involved. For a werewolf to attack a human resulted in Azkaban for life at least. Yet to create a pup without receiving permission from the Registry for Magical Creatures was illegal beyond all bounds.

It was clear that Lupin and Mary could never go to the authorities. Hogwarts was out of the question, for even Dumbledore had to abide the law.

And so, Lupin decided as soon as he arrived in London that there was only one other place to go.

Lupin walked with Mary by his side to the tall, nondescript building in north London. Small businesses and apartments flanked either side, but the building was cut off with a tall brick wall.  Stepping up to the iron gate, Lupin pressed a bell attached to the fence. The air around them radiated with magical charms and protection spells; this house was pretty well equipped against any magical attack.

For a few minutes, no one came out of the house, and he wondered whether anyone was there.  Mary exchanged a puzzled glance with him; she had no idea why they were here. From an upstairs window, a woman's face peered out at them through the thick curtains before disappearing again into the house.  Finally, after ten minutes, the middle-aged lady stepped out of the front door and walked briskly to them. 

She stopped right outside the gate and stared at them through the iron bars. She particularly took note of Mary, and the girl found herself moving closer to Lupin's side under the sharp scrutiny.

"She yours?" the woman asked stiffly. Her voice was quite husky for a woman's and hinted a French accent.

"She's the one from Havenshire," Lupin hedged.

"But is she yours?" the woman pressed, gray eyes flashing.

Lupin lied in the same straight-faced manner he always used. "No, she isn't. It was someone else."

The woman gave a curt nod. She knew who this man was, just as he knew her; most all werewolves had some knowledge of them. Remus Lupin was a very prominent figure in werewolf society, being the only one who was allowed to attend Hogwarts, the only one who was formerly educated in wizardry, the only one who was granted permission from the Ministry to be able to legally own and use a wand. He was also known for his great moral character, and so the woman believed him. Foolishly believed him. She opened the front gate. "Remus Lupin," she addressed.

"Claire de Chien-Loup," Lupin countered smoothly.

The two stared at each other for a long time, as if sizing each other up. Mary, in turn, looked at them with large eyes, afraid of what was going to happen next. Then, Claire broke into a small smile. "I am 'onored to make your acquaintance," she said pleasantly. "Come." They entered the house quickly, and Claire shut several locks when the door was closed.

Mary was confused. Where were they? She grabbed hold of Lupin's hand. In the background, a faint buzzing noise was heard, almost like the sound of an old heater on the verge of breakdown. Looking around, Mary saw how the walls were lifeless and bare, yet impeccably clean. In the air lingered the smell of mothballs and the artificial pine scent of cleaning products. The floors shone with a fresh waxing; there were no dust bunnies in the corners. The whole building was immaculate but uncomfortably so. Like in a hospital ward.

Claire glanced over her shoulder and asked, "Only a few days, is she not?"

"Very young," Lupin agreed. 

"Just like you were, huh?" Claire continued down the hall, not expecting an answer.

Mary watched the stiff-backed figure walk ahead, her long black braid swinging down her back, and asked, "Remmy, who's she?"

"Madame de Chien-Loup is the owner of this place," Lupin said. "She's letting us stay here for awhile."

Of course, Lupin didn't dare tell Mary the whole story. Claire de Chien-Loup was in charge of the Safehouses, several small refuge homes located throughout Europe and based in London. These were special shelters for werewolves everywhere. According to an agreement Claire had made with the Ministry, these people were protected as long as they resided in one of her Safehouses. Claire provided the costs and upkeep for these places herself, depending largely on private donations. The Safehouses were her life.

These places were more like prisons than homes, and Lupin wasn't fond of the idea of the only choice werewolves had was to be locked up and under constant supervision. That was the reason why he had avoided these Safehouses until now. Yet he knew well about the security these places had. Security was what both Lupin and Mary needed. That was why he lied.

For there was one condition that all residents must obey: the werewolves allowed in her Safehouses had to be free from human carnage. Any who tasted human blood were banned. That was Claire's only standard to her self-made sanctuaries and was the only reason why the Ministry wasn't after her for housing so many potentially dangerous creatures in one area. As long as all were innocent, she and her houses were secure.

Claire showed them to a plain doorway at the end of the hall. "Currently, you are ze only tenants 'ere. Ze last one left two days ago and no one 'as come since. You are aware of ze regulations?" she asked.

"Mary might not." 

Claire gave the child a much warmer glance when the two met eyes. "Zair are very few of zem, actually," she said. "One: Always address ze 'ead mistress," she pointed to herself, "before leaving for anywhere and always say where you will go and when you will return. Two: Never be out after dark. You are tenants at a Safehouse, but many wizards disregard ze fact when our kind is alone at night outside. And three: Always, _always_, stay in ze holding chamber during ze full moon. I'll show you where it is when it is time. We can not take any chances now, can we?" She smiled as if making a private joke.

"Why do we have to stay in-" Mary started to whisper to Lupin, but Claire opened the door. 

"I do not 'ave any rooms wiz two beds," she interrupted. "But I can send in a stowaway mattress for you."

"Thank you very much. That will do." Lupin put his shabby case on the bedspread as Claire gave a little tip of her head in acknowledgment. 

"Your welcome. Dinner will be at six," she said politely and closed the door.

Lupin looked over at Mary, who was gazing around her. The room they were in was rather small and plain, just like the rest of the building. Painted in stark white, with only the bed and a small table for furniture, the room seemed indeed to be like a prison cell or a room from an insane asylum. Even the small window that let in the polluted city light has slim bars over it, with window glass enforced with chain link fencing. He saw the forlorn look cross Mary's face as she said in a small voice, "We're staying here?"

"Only for a while," Lupin reassured her. 

Mary face fell. She was on the border to being miserable, for the place seemed so cold and uninviting. 

"It's only a little plain because Madame de Chien-Loup doesn't have time to decorate. We'll paint this place soon enough." Lupin lifted Mary up and sat her next to him on the bed. "What colors would you prefer?" he asked her.

Mary perked up. "We can paint the walls? Honest?"

"I'm sure Madame wouldn't mind," Lupin said. 

"Mama would never let me get the walls messy..."

"Your mama never allowed you to decorate, I suppose."

Mary looked at the bare walls in intense thought. "Green," she decided firmly. "Pink is too girl-ly."

"But of course," Lupin agreed amiably. "Green it is."

"And unicorns on the walls?" she asked hopefully. "With knights and dragons?"

Lupin smiled at her, glad to be cheering her up. "We'll paint as many unicorns and dragons and anything else you want," he promised.

Mary nodded her head, satisfied with the compromise. Then, she paused. "Remmy," she said worriedly. "I have to make a call."

"Call?" Lupin asked. "As in the telephone?"

"Uh-huh. I forgot to tell Mama and Papa where I was." Mary suddenly became stressed at this new realization. "They might be worried about me! Papa said," she added, "to always call home when I go places, like at Suzy's house, so they know where I am." She slid off the bed and went to the door, reaching up on her tip-toes to grasp the handle. "Can we ask Madame de Chien-Loup for a phone?"

Lupin sighed. He knew that she was going to ask about her parents sooner or later. "Well, I don't think we could call your parents just yet."

"But why?" Mary took her hand off the doorknob and turned to face him.

This was going to be hard to explain. "Come here for a moment, Mary," Lupin said in his gentlest voice. Mary hesitated, sensing bad news, then climbed up to the side of the bed. Lupin folded his hands in his lap, trying to resist the urge of putting an arm around the child and pulling her close, like a parent would do.

"Why can't I call Papa and Mama?" Mary asked again persistently. Her little brow furrowed in worry and uncertainly as she addressed him.

Because they think you're dead. Because they can never know what you've become. Because you're not truly their daughter anymore. Lupin wanted to say those things, but he could never be this blunt, this harsh to a little child. And so he did the next best thing he could think of. He was going to break her new werewolf identity to her as sincerely as possible. 

"You followed me for a very special reason, Mary," he began.

"I know," she answered self-assuredly.

Lupin was amazed. "You do?"

Mary smiled a private smile to herself, like she was keeping a secret. "I came to help," she justified cheerfully. 

"To help?" He was even more confused at this answer. 

Mary nodded. "If Papa were here, he would have wanted to help you. But he's not here now, so I'm helping you for him." She sounded so confident when she said that, with her innocent naiveté.

Lupin wasn't sure he understood this clearly, but if this explanation satisfied the child, he wasn't going to say anything the other way. "Yes," he said thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose we came to help each other, in a way..." He glanced down at Mary. "I have to help you too."

"Nothing's wrong with me," Mary paused. "There's this dark thing here... but it's not bad..."

"A 'dark thing?' " Lupin asked, puzzled.

Mary pulled down the collar of her dress low enough so that her bare shoulder showed. A part of dark brown scar tissue was seen. "It's big," she said, pointing with her index finger from the back of her shoulder, across sideways, around her arm, and looping back toward the starting place, "but it doesn't hurt."

The werewolf's bite. God, he had almost bitten her entire arm off! She was especially small for her age, and his werewolf form was twice as big as a normal wolf, but Lupin never realized.... He wanted to see the scar completely, but was at the same time repelled by it. He could have taken her entire arm off in one bite! He could have killed her in one blow....

It was indeed a miracle that she was still alive.

"Of course," he said briskly. "Well, that's a sign."

"A sign?"

"You have something special about you because of it..."

Mary waited for him to continue, interested by his words.

"Well," he continued, "have you ever pretended to be someone else?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Like a fairy princess?"

"Kind of. What about an animal?" he hinted.

"Sometimes I play horsie with Suzy. She's my bestest friend," Mary added.

"Um, well..." If she were only older! Lupin could have told her the whole story much more easily if she had the knowledge that comes when one isn't a child anymore. He could lecture, he could explain, he could show her everything. Yet Mary was only seven years old, and Lupin worried that he would frighten rather than inform if he told her the truth.

He said in a very soft voice, "How about if I tell you that you can truly change into another animal?"

"You mean, when I want to?" Mary inquired. "Like I can really turn into a horsie?" 

"Not really. What I mean is," Lupin clarified, "you can change. Every month for a single night when the moon is at its fullest, you cease to be yourself and become a wolf."

No response. Mary went rigid and her face paled significantly. "Wolf?" she finally whispered, eyes widening.

"Yes," Lupin agreed hurriedly. "A wolf."

"For real?" An even quieter voice than before, like she was retreating within herself.

Lupin put a hand to his forehead and sighed. He knew that she was thinking about the beast who attacked her only a few nights before. The wolf that was within him, that side of him Mary had no idea about.

"For real."

Mary jumped back, so abruptly that even Lupin was startled. "I don't wanna be that!" she wailed. "That was bad! It hurt me!" Her eyes clouded up with tears and she wrapped her arms around herself, moving back to the door. "It hurt!!"

"No, no, it's not the same..!" Lupin quickly kneeled down by her. "Please, Mary, oh please, don't cry."

"But it hurt!" Mary panicked, her exclamations coming faster and faster. "It hurt me and now I'll hurt other people too! Everywhere I go! When I go home, I'll become a wolf and hurt Papa and Mama and then they'll be wolves and hurt people and then everybody would hurt everyone else! It'll never end!"

Lupin tried to calm her down. "Your parents won't-"

The realization struck her. "I can't hurt them! But if I'm home and the moon's out-" Her breathing jarred and she hiccupped. "I can't go home!"

"I'm sorry," he said helplessly, feeling things go out of control.

"And I'll be all alone!" she moaned. "I'll never see Mama or Papa or Suzy or anyone else! All I can be is a wolf who hurts!"

"No you won't, Mary!" 

The remark came out too forceful than Lupin intended, but it calmed her down. She sniffed and looked away, putting her fist to her mouth to muffle her sobbing. Her back was against the door, face turned so that one flushed cheek pressed to the wood. It was like she almost as if she feared him jumping out at her. Or subconsciously realizing that she needed to stay away from him. 

He got up to his feet and stared out the barred window, focusing his eyes on the dull metal links within the glass. Did she fear him now? Did she fear herself?

No, he wouldn't let that happen to her. Not like it happened to him.

"I won't let you," he said determinedly. "That's why you're here with me. We'll try never to hurt." Impulsively, he reached over and took her into his arms. Mary faced away from him, so that he had his arms wrapped around her small waist. "As long as we stay together, we won't hurt anyone." To himself he vowed, _And I'll never hurt you again, Mary. Ever._

He rocked her shaking form gently, as a father would a child. "You'll never be alone, not when I'm here."

After awhile, the sobs ceased and she grew quiet. Lupin realized that he had been holding her and let go, embarrassed by taking such a liberty. But Mary didn't act offended; she didn't seem to notice that at all. She leaned against him in silence and Lupin couldn't help but to hold her again. She was only a child, and she needed him. And he needed her.

Finally, a soft voice was heard from the girl. "Promise, Remmy?"

"Promise." 

***

In the hallway, Claire hesitated, her raised fist just above the closed door. Madame de Chien-Loup backed away quietly from the closed door and headed downstairs.

Heading toward her private office, she heard the sound similar to a defunct heater still humming in the background. Wordlessly, Claire entered the room and came to her desk. Opening the bottom drawer, she stared mutely at the Sneakoscope, whirling round and round the bottom of the drawer, emitting a blinding white light. Now exposed to the open air, the shrill alarm echoed throughout the room, warning of deception. This was an extremely sensitive verification tool, and the only magical device that she trusted. It had been going off ever since she had let Lupin and the girl inside, triggered the moment after she questioned them. 

Claire glanced up above her, to the room where her new tenets resided. She shook her head - somewhat disbelieving, somewhat disappointed - then shut and locked the drawer in one quick motion. The warning alarm muffled again, it reduced back to the low buzz.

On the desk was a Muggle phone. Usually used for mundane purposes only, the telephone had a spell-induced speed dial to the Registry of Magical Creatures. It was part of the deal she made with them, to report upon the status of her Safehouses every week and check upon suspicious newcomers.

Hesitantly, she picked up the receiver. If she broke the pact, the Registry could take away her housing license. Madame had a responsibility to her kind; she couldn't afford to lose her livelihood.

Yet above her head was one of the most well-known werewolves in England. A famous man. The one who defied the system of oppression that many werewolves suffered. But most of all, a wizard. 

The dial tone droned in her ear. She froze in indecision, something she was not used to. Yet finally, Claire sighed and hung up the phone. 

She would talk with Lupin later.

Chapter 11

At six o'clock both Lupin and Mary came promptly downstairs to the dining room: a large, well-kept room that was as plain as the rest of the house. A long table was at the center, made to accompany a large group. Three places were set, and the small number was only exaggerated by the broadness of the table. Madame Claire de Chien-Loup was nowhere to be seen.

Both of them pulled up a seat and sat down. Mary had lapsed back into her silence, and Lupin tried hard to get her talking again.

"We still have an appointment to paint that room, don't we?" he chatted agreeably. "Maybe we could do Madame a favor by painting the entire house as well. What do you think?"

Mary stared down at her empty plate and said nothing.

"Well, I hope you're hungry then. I know we haven't been eating much on our travels so far."

Silence.

_She's in shock_, Lupin thought miserably to himself. He hoped it wouldn't last too long. When he was first given the news of his werewolf nature, he had refused to speak for a month.

A few minutes passed in quiet and Lupin looked over his shoulder, wondering where the head mistress was. 

_Smash!_

There was a loud chatter from the direction of the kitchen, followed by the echo of several choice words shouted in French. Lupin got up from his seat and headed toward a door leading to the kitchen, saying to Mary, "I think I'll see what Madame de Chien-Loup is up to."

Mary watched him wordlessly as he left the room.

"_Merde! Zut!_" Lupin heard her shouting from behind the closed door. He opened it to reveal Claire slumped in the corner, muttering to herself as she aimed a rusty fire extinguisher with one good hand. The other was dark red, bloody and burned. Several pots and pans were scattered about and two low pots on the stove set entirely ablaze.

"My Lord! _Finite inferno!_" Lupin put out the flames with a quick sweep of his wand. "Madame, are you all right?"

She let the fire extinguisher drop from her hands as she looked at him in surprise. Claire, obviously embarrassed by this impression she made, hid her abashment by saying roughly, "I'm not always like zis, you know. Ze magic is ze problem."

She gestured to the stove with her well hand. "Last time I leave magically run appliances to work by zemselves. Got it installed last week and now it just blew like zat. Must 'ave done something wrong - triggered ze flame blast incorrectly. Always despised zose things. Despise cooking in general."

Moving to get up, Claire groped for the side of the kitchen table. "Zair is a first aid kit in ze closet." She grimaced from the pain. "I can-"

"No, let me." Lupin brought the woman to her feet. Placing his wand on the nasty burn he whispered, "_Restorus._"

The wound closed, fully healed, leaving only the dark trace of a scab. Instead of being grateful, Madame jerked her hand away. "I could 'ave 'elped myself," she said testily.

Turning away, she gave a swift kick to the side of the oven. "Absolutely loath zese magical things," she spat. "Never allowed to work right."

That was a first for any person of the wizarding world to say. However, Claire wasn't a wizard herself. If she was, she could have fixed the flame easily enough without the fire extinguisher and she could have healed herself with the aid of a wand if she owned one.

"Perhaps you would like some help?" Lupin asked. He hoped that Claire wouldn't take offense again.

She was quickly gathering up the fallen pots and pans and was hanging them to the set of hooks by the wall. They must have been knocked over when she jumped back from the defunct stovetop. "You may," she said after a moment. "But don't use zat wand of yours. I prefer ze mundane way."

"Of course," Lupin said diplomatically, tucking his wand back in his belt, where he normally kept it when wearing Muggle clothing.

Claire took off the large saucepan from the stovetop, now heavily scorched by the fire, and dumped it into the waste bin. "Do you want to 'elp too?" she asked, directing the question toward the doorway.

"Mary?" Lupin looked behind him to see the girl peering from around the corner at them. 

She shrunk back a little at being seen, but then cautiously stepped into the room. "How- how did you do that?" she asked timidly. 

Lupin was so glad that she was speaking again that he only half-heard what she actually said. "Oh, do what?" 

Claire walked past him, dumping a bag half-full of potatoes into his arms. "Start peeling," she instructed, ready to get back to the work at hand.

"Put out the fire." Mary hesitated before saying the question. "You a magician?"

Lupin nodded slowly and tried to downplay it to the girl. "It's nothing much," he dismissed uneasily. "Only spell-casting abilities..." He didn't exactly want Mary to know about this so soon. He was planning to make an easy transition to the wizarding world; another talk perhaps - at least a better one than their first discussion. Apparently this wasn't going to happen.

"Are you one too?" Mary asked Claire.

Madame de Chien-Loup was busy filling up a large kettle of water, acting as if everything had gone smoothly without the incident with the combusting stove. "I was not allowed to become a wizard," she said coarsely. "I'm only an ordinary werewolf."

"Claire-" Lupin hissed, but Mary brightened up with these words.

"Werewolf?" she asked. "Like me?"

Madame put took out a small paraffin burner from the cupboard and set it on the table, along with the pot. Then, she froze. "Oh yes..." she said awkwardly, realizing her faux-pas. "You don't know of magic, do you?"

"I know a little now." Mary sat at the kitchen table and looked up at the two adults, who suddenly were quite still. Lupin looked a bit rueful, while Claire flushed with embarrassment for the second time. 

"Then I'm not the only one?"

Claire continued her work by lighting the paraffin burner. She figured that her tactless way of speaking was not going to help. Lupin answered.

"We're all werewolves," he explained. "That is why we came here. This is a safe place to us to live for awhile."

"So you were bitten too?"

"I was, yes." Lupin made to sit down at the kitchen table also with the bag still in his hands. Claire quickly brushed past again to take it from him.

"Obviously you're not going to listen to me..." she muttered under her breath. She made her way over to the counter and began peeling potatoes herself as the water was set to boil.

"A long time ago," he said, "when I was about your age."

"And you, Madame de Chien-Loup?" Mary's voice grew inquisitive and bright, relieved to know that she was in the company of others like her. 

Claire glanced up from her hands, which were busily cutting and dicing. She looked much more comfortable now she didn't have to deal with the magical stove. "I was born a werewolf," she answered simply. "I am part of an old French wolf clan from ze Pyreneés."

"Clans?" 

"A family." Claire dumped the potatoes into the pot and began chopping other vegetables she had taken out. 

Mary pressed the head mistress for more answers, intrigued. "So, there's more?"

"Yes." Madame took several items from the shelf above and added them into the soup on the burner. She met Mary's gaze as she threw in a dash of pepper. "But our numbers are dwindling. Wolf clans never survive very long nowadays." She turned back to her cooking, stirring with a long wooden spoon. "Ze Registry of Magical Creatures put a limit on ze number of werewolf births in ze clans about fifty years ago. And all werewolves who did not belong in a clan were classified as potential dangers, strays. For zey could be able to start a new bloodline of werewolves, something ze Ministry does not want."

Mary tried to follow as best as she could, but Lupin understood Claire clearly. She was telling this to him.

"Zese loners could not marry, werewolf or human, in fear of starting a new bloodline. If a loner created a pup zroo bite, zen both pup and maker would most likely be killed." Madame let the pot simmer and stared directly at Lupin. "Zat is under ze Guidelines for ze Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-'Uman Creatures, Section 13b, paragraph nine." True, Claire had faith in him. But her gray eyes were saying that she suspected something that she dared not voice.

Lupin knew her suspicions were true.

"And there is no loophole for this?" he asked in a casual manner. "What is the purview of these guidelines?"

"Zair may be something," Claire replied vaguely. "I 'ave a copy of werewolf law in my office. Who knows, zair could be an exemption zat I am not familiar wiz."

She turned the burner off and ladled the steaming soup into three bowls. "We might as well eat in 'ere, wiz such a small number of lodgers."

"I'm sorry there," Lupin snapped out of his interest in what Claire was saying when she brought the bowls to the table. "I meant to help-"

"You can fix zat blasted piece of junk," Claire amended, jerking a thumb toward the magical stove. As if on cue, it emitted a puff of dark smoke from the overhead fan. "Zat would be a big 'elp."

Sitting down at the table head, she concluded her point with, "But whatever ze reason, I am very open-minded. To me, a werewolf loner who created a pup is innocent of crime until proven otherwise." She took up a spoon and sipped at the broth. "_Comprenez_?"

Mary agreed, although the subtext of what Claire was saying went entirely over her head. "I bet the person could have been lonely," she suggested helpfully. "That's why they're called loners, right? Maybe they needed a friend."

Lupin bent his head low as he ate.

"Interesting thought, Mary. And what do you think, Remus?" Madame inquired.

He ate half his soup before answering. "Maybe it never meant to happen," Lupin said softly. "Yet I also agree with Mary." Then he addressed the girl. "This is your first time in London. You told me before."

Mary sipped her soup noisily, dribbling a trickle down her chin. "Uh-huh."

Lupin took a napkin and wiped her mouth. "How would you like to see the City tomorrow?"

Chapter 12

Thus the weeks passed in London. No new arrivals came, and so the three remained alone together in that nondescript building in north London, content to say the least. An unusual trio they made up - the magic-hating Frenchwoman, the former Hogwarts professor, and the Muggle-born werewolf child - but they got along as the days passed. Claire grew less resentful of Lupin's occasional help around the place. Mary became used to being away from home, and she and Claire struck up a subtle camaraderie. The nightmares that had plagued Lupin's nights were gone, and for the first time in years, he slept soundly every night.

Madame Claire de Chien-Loup spent much of her days in her upstairs office, managing phone calls (conference mirrors annoyed her) and Internet-video meetings with her Safehouse managers around Europe. Every morning one could pass by the closed door and hear her shouting something in French, German, or English - planning, debating, organizing. 

Afterwards, she hit the legal books, finding any way to put Lupin in the clear under the eyes of the Ministry and Registry of Magical Creatures. Many hours were spent with both of them in her office after Mary had went to bed, analyzing the tiny print that made up these legal documents. Often during these legal interludes, Lupin fell asleep in the leather chair by the desk while Claire continued her search. She didn't mind, and secretly liked watching him doze, with his brown-gray hair covering his eyes and his voice muttering nonsense things in his sleep. The scene was almost cute. 

Because Claire was busy most of the time, Lupin and Mary spent their time together by themselves. Lupin did everything he could to make the girl happy. During the days, he took Mary out to see the vast metropolis of London. Together, they witnessed the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, imitating and poking fun at the guards who never moved (although when Mary kissed one on the cheek, the tiniest hint of a smile could be seen.) They toured the famous Tower of London, and got a chance to see the Crown Jewels that the building ceremoniously kept for the Royal family. On an unusually warm day near the end of October, they visited London Zoo at Regent's Park, where Mary got to see the African zebras and Przhevalski's horses run and play, although both agreed not to step a foot near the pen of Baltic wolves. 

When November rolled around, Lupin persuaded Mary to visit the local famous cathedrals. St. Paul's Cathedral's architectural splendor was examined and held in awe, while Westminster Abbey impressed Mary, who personally thought of the quaint, rustic church she knew in Havenshire. 

Trafalgar Square was pin-pointed as the next spot of exploration. Even during the off-season, tourists still flocked around, taking pictures of the great statue of the naval commander Viscount Horatio Nelson while shopping at little pushcarts. Lupin and Mary acquired free passes from Claire and visited the National Gallery, a place where they stayed for hours on end looking at masterpieces by Botticelli and Vermeer, Michelangelo and Rembrandt. There was one painting in particular of a dark-haired man with a light-haired child in his arms. When Mary saw this, she giggled and pointed out, "Remmy! Someone painted us!"

Lupin pretended to give only a passing glance at the painting, but later, he managed to obtain a postcard picture of it at the gift shop and slipped it into his family Bible for safekeeping.

However, the nights had a different tone. All the times when Lupin had presumed the girl had drifted off to sleep was actually false. Many times Mary was awake, peering from half-closed eyes, when he slipped out of the room to continue the legal search with Claire. What she thought of these nighttime meetings didn't border on any improprieties to the child's mind. Instead, she simply accepted the excuse that he left the room to possibly help her sleep better.

But this nocturnal isolation did not calm her. Indeed, it was only during the night that her fears came. In the dark, shadows around the room transformed into savage beast that circled her bedside. The sound of passing traffic changed into the incessant growling of a waiting predator. The faint light of the slowly-cresting moon became ghostly and foreshadowing to her, and she shied away from the little patches that fell on her bedspread.

Mary would lay awake and shut her eyes tight, throwing the covers over her head. _The wolves won't get me, the wolves won't get me, the wolves won't get me...._ Making a cocoon for herself out of the blankets, she snuggled deep within her bed and repeated this litany for minutes on end until sleep came.

_The wolves won't get me, the wolves won't get me, the wolves won't get me, the wolves won't get me, the wolves won't get me, the wolves won't get me, thewolveswon'tgetme, thewolveswon'tgetme, thewolveswon'tgetme, thewolveswon'tgetme, thewolveswontgetmethewolveswontgetmethewolveswontgetme_....

She never confided to her Remmy these fears. For if she did, Mary always reasoned, then that would only mean the shadow wolves were real.

***

By the second week into November, the two were firmly settled into their new lifestyle. They had been staying here at the Safehouse for about three weeks. During this time, Lupin had taken Mary on a whirlwind tour throughout London. Why he tried so hard to please the child was simple. For in Mary he saw himself years ago, the young boy without a home and without happiness. He wasn't going to let Mary experience all the fear and melancholy that he had known too soon. She, in more ways than one way, was his second chance at a pleasant life.

One morning, Mary came bouncing into the kitchen.

"Remmy..??" Mary tugged on his robe sleeves, jumping up and down. Claire had managed to tailor her some robes her size, which Mary wore around the house. The hems trailed down past her feet and she nearly tripped in her excitement.

"Hold on!" Lupin put out a hand to steady her. "Now what's all this about?"

"I want to go to the cinema." Mary flourished a Muggle newspaper at him. "The Regus London Film Festival!"

"Really? Is it time already?" Lupin picked up the paper she was holding and scanned it. He had never been to a Muggle cinema before and asked hesitantly, "Are you sure you want to go?"

Mary nodded. "All those other places were really fun," she reassured. "But maybe just one movie..." She looked up pleadingly.

God, he was spoiling the child, wasn't he? But Lupin couldn't help it. It cost money to go, of course, and he didn't like to plague Claire with the costs....

"I don't know," he answered. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Mary repeated, looking up at him with that same pleading look Lupin used to give to his father when he was young.

It's official. Mary was manipulating him. And Lupin willingly played along once more. "Just one," he submitted.

"Thank you!" Mary jumped up for a quick hug before darting back to her seat. _This is why I'm so yielding,_ he thought, kissing the top of the girl's head before she slipped out of his grasp.

For a few minutes, the girl ate in silence and Remus took up the _Daily Prophet_ to read. Claire had subscriptions to all the wizard papers, as if to make up for her Muggle residence. 

"How come Madame de Chien-Loup never goes anywhere with us?" Mary abruptly asked. It was one of her sudden questions that often seemed to come sporadically from her mysterious mind now and then.

Lupin took a sip of his tea and looked up. Mary was waiting for him to answer. Both sat in the kitchen by themselves, since Claire had already left to continue her office work a couple hours before. 

Behind him, the magical stove in the corner gave a half-disgruntled lurch and puffed out a small cloud of gray smoke. True, Lupin had attempted to fix it up during his stay at the London Safehouse. It was fixed too... well, almost. At least it managed not to set fire to the eggs this time.

For some reason, a nervous chuckle escaped from his throat. "Well, Madame is quite busy most of the time," he admitted. "We can't disturb her business."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ZEY DROPPED OUR COVERAGE???" The outburst echoed from the other side of the house, where Claire was making phone calls in her office.

Both Lupin and Mary cringed from their seats at the kitchen table.

"You see?" he said pointedly. "She's busy."

"Madame can be awfully grouchy too." Mary thoughtfully put her fork to her mouth. "Do you think it's stress?"

Lupin was amused by this statement. "Now what would a seven year-old like you know about stress?" he asked, smiling.

"It causes high blood pressure. Papa used to have it lots of times."

"Oh?" Mary rarely spoke of her parents, especially not for such a casual reference. He wondered if she thought about them often, or even if she missed him. Her parents were a subject they avoided.

She shrugged and buttered a scone. "Maybe we should take her out to see the film," Putting the roll down, she slipped from her seat. 

"You shouldn't ask-" Lupin protested, hastening to catch up with her. He stopped her in the hall. "Maybe later, perhaps..."

"But she always works!" Mary pouted. She crossed her arms and glared at him with narrowed eyes. " 'S not fair."

Lupin sighed. Did Mary want female companionship? Was that why she was asking about Claire? It wasn't as if Lupin and Mary didn't have a good rapport between them. Maybe there were some things that were different between his and Mary's relationship and that of the two girls. He had no idea; he never had to raise children before. Neither had Claire, as a matter of fact.... 

"I'll go ask then," he said, "Will that do?"

"You're really gonna ask her?"

"I think she is going to refuse."

"But at least you can ask her."

He had a bad feeling about confronting Claire with something as frivolous as this. She always seemed like the utilitarian type, who didn't like extravagances. Certainly the no-fuss, serious attitude helped when running a European-wide operation. He hesitated when he came to the closed doorway. A glance over his shoulder and he saw Mary give an expectant stare. 

He rolled his eyes and took a breath. He and Claire were both mature adults. Why would it worry him to be snubbed by her?

Inside, the Safehouse owner was busy arguing over the telephone.

"We were wiz zem since the beginning! We even bought zair stock, for goodness sake! And zey suddenly cut us out??" Claire was sitting in her leather swivel chair with the back of the chair facing the door. "Well, did you tell Albert to sell the stupid shares zen? Yeah, we can't trust zose two-faced liars." Claire leaned back on her swivel chair. "Why _aren't_ we liable anymore? Oh, zey merged? Wiz who?" She paused. "Zem?? _Vraiment? Non_! Can't be!"

_Knock, knock._

"It's open!" Madame raised her head and waved Lupin into the office.

"Could you please 'old for a moment?" she said into the phone and put the receiver down on the desk. Letting her reading glasses drop down her nose a bit, Claire arched an eyebrow at Lupin and put down the papers she was holding. "Yes, Remus?"

Lupin stood by a shelves, examining the book titles. He fidgeted with the folded newspaper in his hands. "Are you, um, busy this afternoon?"

"Found something out about ze Guidelines zat I need to see?" Claire asked. "Actually, now zat you mention it," she shuffled through her desk drawers and took out a large volume, "I found ze most recent edition of ze Magical Creatures Code ze ozzar day and wanted to show you. Zair was a sub-clause put in a couple years back and-"

"Well, it's not that."

Claire looked up at him. "What is it zen?"

He gestured at the newspaper in his hands and placed it on the desk. Nudging it toward her, he said, "Mary was interested in this."

Madame de Chien-Loup picked up the paper. "Ze Regus London Film Festival?" she inquired.

"She says that she never been to the cinema before," Lupin said. "I thought it would be nice to take her to see a film or two...." He trailed off and turned away bashfully. It embarrassed him to always be asking Claire for money for these things, not to mention what he had to ask now.

"Oh? And 'ow do you expect me to pay for all zis?" She propped an elbow on the table and picked up the receiver. "May I call you back?" she told the person on the other line. A muffled response was heard and she hung up. She looked at Lupin. "I'm not made of money, you know. Ze museum passes were expensive as it was."

"Well, actually..." Lupin ran a hand through his hair. "I was wondering whether you'd like to attend it with us."

Claire gave an incomprehensible look, then went back to her papers. "I can't, Remus," she said. "I 'ave to call my agent back about insurance and I'm expecting a call at four from my cousin in Munich. Not to mention all zese files-"

"When's the last time you went out?" he probed. 

An exasperated stare. "What does it matter? When zair's work to be done-"

"Mary would like it if you came."

"Sometime later, perhaps." She gave Lupin a quick look while shuffling the papers, which suddenly she took a great interest in. "Ze budget's tight as of late also. I'm not sure if I can squeeze it in. And zair 'as to be someone 'ere, just in case...."

"It's time I helped out around here more often then. I'll make up for the cost somehow. And I'll set up a Lookout Spell in case anyone comes. I'll get the call and Apparate us back." Mentally, he was asking himself why was he doing this. She said no, get over it!

Claire suspected as much. "Why are you asking anyway?"

"Because Mary-" Lupin started. He stuttered when Claire appeared not to believe him. "Well, she did!" he retorted. _Oh, really impressive explanation there, Remus,_ he chided to himself.

Claire took off the reading glasses and stared at him. She leaned forward. The papers lay in her hand, forgotten. "Do you want me to go?" she asked. Her voice was soft and expressionless, totally unreadable.

"It's Mary; she wants you to go," he covered hurriedly. "You know how much she enjoys your company..."

"I see." Claire gave a small smile. It was the most sincere expression that Lupin had ever seen her give him. "But 'ow will you make up ze cost?" she inquired sternly.

"What do you need done?" Lupin asked.

"Hmmm......" Claire leaned back in her chair. "Ze protection spells for ze building needs to be renewed," she said finally. "Zat is ze most expensive part of zis building's upkeep. I usually 'ire someone to do zat - zey charge crazy. Get it done, and I'll go."

"Sounds easy." Lupin found that he was grinning at her, but couldn't explain why. "I'll do it then."

Claire nodded and picked up the phone. "Zree 'ours tops," she said. "Don't want to be away all day."

He agreed instantly, "Three hours it is then."

Dialing a number and retrieving some items from a desk drawer, she seemed absorbed back into her work. Yet Claire distinctly took note exactly when Lupin left the room; she watched him leave with half-raised eyes.

"_Oui, oui_... so we 'ave to get some new insurance, don't we....?" she said in a distracted voice. "Huh? What did you say? Sorry, I did not catch zat..."

*** 

After breakfast, Lupin leafed through various spell books that Madame had given him. "You can find ze spell 'ere. Take your time," she had said as she plunked the pile into his arms. "I'll be awhile." However, she had a little sparkle in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before. Was she actually looking forward to going out? That was a surprise to him, and Lupin suddenly felt the guilt for not asking her out anywhere before.

He had several spell books laid out before him, each open to a different section. Holding _Home Repair for the Handy Wizard_, he was leafing through "Chapter VII: Bulwarks and Various Protection Spells" with Mary looking over his shoulder.

She read piecemeal, trying to sound out the words. "Take... Take one h-heart of.. croc- croc-"

"Crocodile," Lupin murmured, turning the page.

"Ewww! They use crocodile hearts??" she exclaimed.

"Hmm... yes, Mary," Lupin muttered, scanning the words.

"That's cruelty to animals!"

"No, it isn't. Shush, Mary, I have to read this."

"But what about the poor crocodile?"

"I'm sure they don't go through much pain."

"You only think so because you're not a crocodile."

Lupin shut the book. "Mary," he said with forced pleasantry, "why don't you go off for a little while? I have some work to be done."

"But I want to help!"

"You can help by leaving me on my own."

Mary didn't leave, but instead persisted even more. "I promise not to break anything."

"But you don't want to handle any crocodile hearts," Lupin pointed out, "This spell requires five." He leaned an elbow on the book and looked at her. "I'm only doing this to help Madame de Chien-Loup. I have to get this right or we won't be going anywhere today." He was suddenly struck with the realization that he was compromising with a child, similar in the way that a parent does. He quickly pushed that out of his mind. "Okay?"

"Okay..." Mary agreed and left the room, giving him a dissatisfied glance.

Turning back to the book, he began murmuring the ingredients aloud. "Five crocodile hearts, two cups of chamomile, six cloves of garlic, twelve strands of unicorn hair..."

Would Claire have any of the magical ingredients? She doesn't practice magic. She can't; it was illegal for any natural Dark Creature to practice any magic outside its own nature. Yet then why did she have these books on hand? It suddenly came to Lupin that Claire wasn't the exact law-abiding werewolf. Otherwise, why would he and Mary still be here?

Could Madame de Chien-Loup be trying to teach herself magic? Such a headstrong, independent woman like her - Lupin had no doubt she could be. Well, obviously her attempts cannot be successful without a proper wand, something she can never have. And a teacher as well, to instruct her about wizardry. 

How odd it seemed, though, that she trusted Lupin with her prohibited ways. Lupin wondered why Claire had such faith in them, or even why he relied on her. Claire could have turned them to the Ministry without a blink of an eye, yet she didn't. Was it because he was the only wizarding werewolf in England? Or was it something more...?

He came to her office door again. "Claire," he asked aloud, "do you have any Northern Irish unicorn hair or Grade-A Egyptian crocodile hearts?"

"Non," came the reply. "I'll order some through the Internet then, oui?"

"Uh, okay then." Lupin still didn't understand some Muggle concepts. Take the Internet for instance. Somewhat of a novelty, it was something which even a few Diagon Alley storekeepers had begun to use to take and deliver orders. It was almost like magic the way Muggles used their technology. Imagine, to have access of all sorts of information only through the networking of billions of people via computers. To be able to find almost anything at a click of a button. To do basic tasks without leaving home. How strange to think that wizards hadn't thought of the invention first.

***

Later that day, the proper ingredients arrived via express courier. A wizard errand boy delivered it by hand, yet reacted quite strangely when he came to the address. Upon answering at the gate, Lupin saw a trembling, pale-faced boy holding the bag in his quivering hands. When he asked what was the matter, the boy only dropped the package, and ran off, gasping, "Werewolf!" 

It was an unaccustomed response that bothered him and made Lupin wonder how did other wizards perceive the Chien-Loup business. A pack house of terror where savage beasts are kept under lock and key, perhaps? There were rumors that he knew of before he came to these Safehouses. Yet he knew that rumors are only rumors after all.

Checking with the spell book at hand, he piled the items at the corner of the house. Then he ducked inside again to retrieve a rope ladder he saw piled in the basement. Scant effects from the anti-magic spell still protected the building, and so no spells could be performed outside on the property. A bulwark, but it also reduced him to using Muggle means to get to the roof. 

Grasping the tangled ropes in his arms, he climbed back up the stairs. The ladder was quite heavy and twisted, which made for difficult handing. The end dragged behind him.

"What's that for, Remmy?"

"Whoa!" Lupin grasped onto the railing, almost tripping upon the ladder ends. Mary grabbed onto his arm to steady him. 

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"No harm done," he replied. "Now what did I say about leaving me alone for awhile...?"

"Can't I watch?" Mary folded her hands together. "Please???"

He sighed. She was going to bother him anyway, so might as well. "As long as you don't interfere," he exemplified. He headed outside with Mary as a second shadow, assembling the items.

Mary looked into the bag containing the ingredients and winced. "These are the crocodile hearts?" she asked, gesturing to a dark oilcloth bag inside.

"Indeed." Lupin attached grappling hooks to the ends of the rope ladder and with a skillful throw, hooked it onto the side of the building. He checked for any pedestrians or passing cars. The iron fencing around the property couldn't cover up what he was doing. The spell had to be performed on the roof, and he didn't want any curious Muggle eyeing him. It would have been much easier to do this under the cover of night, but the spell required daylight to work. Mary stared at the oilcloth bag. "Isn't it bad to use animal parts like this?" she asked.

"Bad?" He turned to her with the ends of the ladder in his hand. 

Mary blushed, embarrassed. "Like, you know... animal sacrifice or something." She said it in a soft tone, like she was whispering a word she was not allowed to say.

Lupin quickly negated, "It's not animal sacrifice."

"But to use animal parts..."

"Mary," he reasoned. "I did not kill the crocodiles myself, nor am I sacrificing this to anyone. This is just a spell I'm casting for protection. Any ingredients used here is not used in the name of any god whatsoever, and I assure you that they were killed humanely."

Mary nodded and bit her lower lip. He hated to make any sort of ill-repute when he was with her; maybe it because of what she represented to him. He wondered what kind of man she thought him to be. He hoped, at least, not a hypocritical one. 

He expounded his reasoning. She listened - Mary always had a knack for listening - yet he could only guess at how much she grasped. 

She had pointed out cruelty to animals before. Yet all animal by-products used in potions and spells were sanctioned by the Humanitarian Board of Wizarding Products to prevent such inhumanity. Just like how Muggles had laws against cruelty to animals, so did wizards. Imperfect systems at best, both of them, yet better than nothing. 

If she protests for loss of life, then how could she eat? Everything has to die in order for something to live. But, in the end, all life goes to the same place. He tried to explain that to her, and she hesitantly agreed. However, Lupin couldn't shake the feeling that she was losing some of that inborn grace within her because of him.

"Would you like to go inside?" he asked firmly. He felt that she definitely should not want to observe.

"No," she immediately replied. Her eyes held a resolution that couldn't be eradicated. "I want to watch."

He sighed. "If any cars come, warn me," he told Mary. She nodded.

Slinging the sack over his shoulder, he took hold of the ladder rungs and ascended to the top of the building. The Safehouse was basically in the format of a small apartment with a flat roof. At the top, he put down the sack and brought out the ingredients. The hearts were fresh and bleeding, and they stained his hands. Lupin grimaced; he hated working blood spells. Yet it was the blood from the heart of a crocodile that was needed; nothing is stronger than a heart's blood. Hogwarts itself is said to be protected with the magic of dragon's blood, the most powerful agent available.

Wringing out the blood from the hearts into a small vial containing the unicorn hairs, he ground in the garlic, then the chamomile. It formed a thick, dark-colored paste. This wasn't the magic itself, but a catalyst that will trigger the magical reaction, once ignited. Pouring the mixture along the edge of the roof, he looked down at Mary from below. 

She had a hand shielding her eyes, for the sunlight was blocking her vision. However, she was on the dark side of the property, so that the shadow fell upon her, and up above, Lupin was touching the day's light. He felt self-conscious with her eyes upon him and moved faster. Lupin quickly conjured the spell. 

"_Praesidium induco edificium!_" he commanded, and a quick jet of silver burst from his wand. It created a small glittering light that flew straight upwards a meter into the air, then spread outwards like a blooming fountain of water. When the falling sliver wave hit the catalyst, the reaction sped up and the light turned golden. Simply magical, a flash of light that lasted for a split second, and it was done.

Lupin had covered his eyes when the flash occurred and now lifted his head. Nothing could be seen left over from the spell; the traces of catalyst were wiped out and the glow was gone. The spell was in place. 

He then took hold of the ladder and began climbing back down. The streets were still relatively deserted; hopefully, none of the neighbors had witnessed such a feat.

Back on the ground, Mary was sitting dumbfounded. "That... was.... Wow," she said in a hushed tone. "Amazing."

"Magic's like that," he said. Jumping back to the ground, he wiped his hand on his robes. "Magic can be beautiful, if you want it to be." 

He saw Claire framed in the doorway. "I finished early. You done?" she asked.

"Just in time." He looked at her in surprise. "Um, Madame-"

"What?" She turned to face him. Claire was not wearing her usual gray wizard robes. Instead, she was dressed in Muggle clothing: a mint-colored, long-sleeved dress of loose, flowing material that suited her figure and knee-high black boots. Her charcoal hair was pinned up into a casual bun, with wisps of hair framing her face. And - Lupin must be kidding himself here - her eyes were made-up and her lips rouged. Pragmatic Claire using cosmetics?

"Stop staring," she snapped, revealing her prude self again. Yet was there a certain glow of feminine pride within those eyes? "Do you need time to change?"

"Well, um..." He looked at himself and Mary, who were both still dressed in their robes.

"You look very pretty, Madame de Chien-Loup," Mary complimented.

"Why _merci_, Mary," Claire smiled. "Come," she said, taking Mary's hand. "I made up some new clothes for you to change into as well. Are you coming, Remus?" she inquired to Lupin.

He could only manage to nod. Mary observed the expression on his face with a quizzical eye, yet Claire seemed to ignore it. 

"What are you standing there for, Remmy?" Mary pulled at Lupin's hand toward the door. "The next show's starting in an hour!"


	4. Walking Along the Garden's Edge

For disclaimer and additional notes see part 1.

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Four: Walking Along the Garden's Edge

by D.M.P.

***

When God loves a creature he wants the creature to know the highest happiness and the deepest misery ... He wants him to know all that being alive can bring. 

-Thorton Wilder, _The Eighth Day_

***

Chapter 13

Taking the subway to Leicester Square, they arrived in front of the Odeon West End in about half an hour before the first screening. Already, the sidewalk was crowded with theater-goers, even though it was only noon time. "Hopefully, it won't sell-out," Lupin observed as they took their place in line. 

"Ze Regus London Film Festival is a big event," Claire said. "I would not doubt it if we 'ave to wait in for ze next screening. Zese tickets always sell fast."

"I hope we don't have to wait for the next show," Mary commented, eyeing the long line before them.

"Really?" Lupin referred to the wand he hid within his jacket. He was dressed casually in tan slacks and a white button-down shirt with a light brown pilot jacket - items he had acquired over the weeks through Claire's allowance. "I could sneak us in," he joked to Mary. "It'll save on Madame de Chien-Loup's budget."

Madame arched an eyebrow at him. "Sneaking into a movie?" she said. "Very smart, hmm?"

"Well, it was only-" he said, flustered that he could have insulted her.

"Really nice idea, M'seiur Amorality," she said in a dry tone, "You might have to teach zis miser some new tricks."

"You really want to-?" Lupin asked, puzzled.

"What do you think?" she said lightly. 

My God, the woman had a sense of humor! Lupin felt taken back about the fact that she was speaking so playfully. Well, all the times they spent in her office she acted so... _detached_...

They moved ahead in line as she spoke. "Let's try waiting first," he said.

Fortunately, they just made it in. Tickets were only 5 pounds each on matinee discount. Claire paid and observed that twelve pounds were saved. Lupin only listened to this with half an ear. Personally, he had never been to a cinema before, movies being a Muggle activity. He wondered if Claire ever been to one.

Even if she hadn't, Claire acted as if she knew what she was doing. She led them inside the glass door and toward the right theater, almost having to drag to the other two out of the front lobby. Considering that Mary or Lupin had never even entered a cinema before, it was hard for them not to gawk a bit at the movie displays and the milling crowds. It was amusing to look at, in the least.

Mary tugged at Lupin's sleeve. "Can I get some popcorn, Remmy?"

Lupin noted the exceedingly long line at the refreshment counter. "Do you suppose we have enough time?" he answered. "The movie should start-?"

"Pul-leeze?" Mary clasped her hands together. 

"Maybe afterwards?" he suggested.

Mary sighed, taking on a crestfallen look. "Okay..." she agreed somberly, her head bowed.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Maybe we could...." she addressed Lupin, "Save us a couple of seats, would you?" Then, taking Mary by the hand, she headed to the nearest line, saying, "You know zese snacks are just 'ot lard and sugar, do you, Mary....?"

Lupin entered the theater alone, searching for some decent seats. Most of the seating was booked in advance and so the only a scattered few remained near the back. Lupin stared at the large blank screen ahead of him. He wasn't as clueless as most wizards; he knew that a cinema and how Muggles went to them for entertainment. But in observing an actual theater, he wondered how Muggles could be amused by staring at a blank screen for two hours straight.

He found three seats in the last row and draped his coat across two of them. Sitting in the third one, he calmly waited for the show to begin. Soft music floated in the air as he waited, and the screen showed advertisements while people filed in. The tune and products he couldn't identify, and he watched with solemn boredom, his chin in hand and his elbow propped up on the back of the seat in front of him.

A young lady with platinum blonde hair walked down the aisle and took the seat he was leaning upon. "Excuse me..." she drawled.

"What? Oh, sorry there," Lupin took his elbow off. The lady slid into her spot. Lupin politely turned away, pretending to search for something in his coat pockets.

But the woman was staring at Lupin intently, her eyes traveling up and down his frame as if extremely pleased about something. "You into anime too?" she said in a high, excited voice.

"Annie may? Well, I-" he started. The lady kneeled on the seat to face him, crossing her arms over the backing. 

"I'm been waiting for ages to this movie to come to England," the woman gushed. "It came to America last year, and is only playing here during the festival. You a fan of Miyazaki's work?" She tossed her hair a bit. "I'm Lola," she said, sticking out her hand.

"Um, hullo." Lupin stared at the outstretched hand until his realized that she wanted to shake his. So they did. "John," he introduced, using his alias. "John Gardiner. Haven't really heard of anything by him, actually." To himself, he wondered just what "annie may" was.

"I see," Lola said offhandedly. She held his hand tighter, and glanced down, as if checking for something. He hastily pulled back.

"You're not one of those people who think anime is for children, right?" Lola inquired seriously. "I mean, I've saw anime films that were meant for older audiences, and there're parents bringing their five-year old kids to these things like it was one of those American Disney flicks."

Lupin tried again to grasp the conversation. "Well, um-"

"No one appreciates fine animated film-making anymore," she went on. "Say animation, and all people think of is Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck."

"Who?" Lupin asked, confused.

"_Exactly_," Lola approved. "I mean, a talking mouse has nothing to do with quality Japanese animation. I mean, come on." She rolled her eyes. "This is the first time I meet a guy who's seriously into stuff like this."

Mice? Ducks? Why would he be interested in that? And what did that have to do with films? "Me?" he could only ask.

"Hey, wanna go somewhere after the movie? I have a good collection of Laine series I ordered off e-Bay."

"Actually, I'm here with someone," Lupin finally managed to splutter. Was annie may a type of fish? Lupin haven't heard any bay or harbor that was called "E." Maybe wizard geography named it differently... 

"A group? Sure, I'll invite all of ya."

The sound of footsteps, however, put a halt to whatever intentions the lady had in mind. 

"Hey, Remmy," Mary chirped, carrying a large bucket of popcorn.

"Are we interrupting something?" Claire said looking down at the two.

Lola stared at the two for a few moments then hastily got to her feet. "I see how it is," she said coolly.

"What?" Lupin said blankly as Lola stormed away down the aisle.

Mary plunked down in the seat next to him and Claire took the last seat at the end of the row. "I'd be _flattered_ to be 'it on ze second I'm alone," Claire said in a steely voice. Lupin couldn't tell whether she was making a crack or acting indignant.

"But she wasn't doing anything," he started. "We were just talking about fishing and talking mice or ... or something..." 

Claire rolled her eyes in response. 

"Well, do you know what annie may is?" he inquired.

"What?" she shrugged. "Japanese cartoons, I guess."

"Oh." Yet what _were_ cartoons? Lupin sighed, dropping the subject entirely. There were too many aspects to Muggle culture that he could never understand.

"Want some?" Mary asked, holding up the bucket. Lupin eyed the gooey yellow kernels with distaste. "What is this?" he asked.

"Popcorn. Supposedly," Claire tossed a few pieces in her mouth. She chewed slowly, then coughed in an attempt to swallow. "I 'ave no idea 'ow you children can eat zis junk," she said dryly, spitting the hard, oily bits out into a napkin.

" 'S not poison," Mary grabbed a handful and shoved it in her mouth. 

"Not yet, but in thirty years when your arteries are all clogged up, I'm sure you'll think differently," Lupin said.

"Wha?" Mary asked, mouth full.

"Never mind."

Annie may, Lupin discovered, considered of moving drawings that played on screen. Almost like magical moving pictures, except that these figures were drawn, voices dubbed, and moved about in painted backgrounds. Almost disappointing to see that Muggles haven't figured out how to show moving pictures in real life.

However, this annie may contained many magical aspects, like natural magic and forest gods, yet filled with Muggle things too, like guns and the iron industry. The film was something about animal gods and a wild girl going up against an industrial city that invaded their forest, with a young warrior trying to mediate between them. 

What interested Lupin the most was the fact the heroine was raised by wolves and struggled between her raised instincts and human nature. Not to mention that the complexities between the two sides made it clear that the industrial human city wasn't the bad side, but neither were the forest dwellers. The ending, at most was very touching; overall, Lupin was impressed with the Muggle film.

There must have been at least a couple shots of caffeine or something in that popcorn, for afterwards, Mary became very hyper when the film was over. She was practically bouncing off the sidewalks when they stepped out of Odeon West End. 

"Princess Mononoke is so cool!" Mary squealed. "I liked it when she talked to the animals."

"Hmmm... it was rather interesting to see, don't you think?" Claire replied. "I wonder why wizards don't indulge in films as much."

Lupin kicked at the sidewalk a bit in a casual step. "I like it when wolves are portrayed as noble," was all he said. "Only wish that was true in real life."

The three were quiet for a moment. "Yeah," Mary agreed thoughtfully. "I hope we get to be nice wolves like that..."

Sneaking a side-glance at her, Lupin saw the girl shudder a bit at the mention of their identity.

The film was only an hour and a half, leaving them with another 90 minutes to spend before going back to the Safehouse. That time was spent walking along the commercial side of London, filled with tourist shops and boutiques. Mary loved to go window-shopping, pointing to all the millions of toys, candies and expensive dresses she would like to have someday. Lupin and Claire let her run ahead to find new items she'd taken an affinity to. After a while of walking with Madame de Chien-Loup by his side and watching Mary call out to them in her excited little voice, he realized that this actually felt... well, fitting, for lack of a better word. As if his life was suppose to be like this. Perhaps even more than that. 

They came to an outdoor cafe during their walk. A half-dozen little circle tables were on the walk, all filled with eating customers. A pair of musicians were there as well, a saxophone player and a pianist, plus a gray-haired singer. The trio were playing a lively jazz tune. A few couples were dancing to the music. 

"Can we stop and listen?" Mary asked.

Lupin noticed that she looked tired from their long walk. The popcorn high only lasted so long. "Why don't we sit down?" he suggested and pulled up a table for the three of them. They watched the small band play and the Muggles parade themselves around. Claire and Mary compared couples, seeing which ones were better dancers.

Mary had her eyes locked on a fast-moving pair, doing quick, complicated moves. They were very talented, and Mary pointed out, "I think they might be the best."

" 'Ow about zem?" Claire pointed to an elderly pair swaying gently to the tune. 

Mary wrinkled her nose. "They look like my grandparents."

"I think zey look very sweet," Madame de Chien-Loup countered. "Zey must be married for many years, and yet still 'ave ze love to go out and dance together like zat."

Mary considered the couple thoughtfully. "I guess you could be right," she said finally. "I wish I could have someone to dance with when I'm old."

"True..." Claire murmured in a quiet voice that Lupin could barely catch. "So do I."

The jazz riff ended, and the group of customers and passer-bys clapped enthusiastically. Some threw a few quid into the open saxophone case by the band's feet. The singer conferred with his two partners, and a new song commenced, another lively-saxophone tune, almost like swing music. Mary watched the dancers move about with a wistful look on her face as she swung her legs to the music, which were too short touch the ground. After a few minutes, Claire noticed, and silently pointed that out to Lupin with a quick gesture of her eyes. 

Lupin got the message. He stepped forward, offered his hand to Mary and asked in his most formal voice, "May I have this dance?" 

Mary practically lit up with joy. "Really?" 

"If you want to..."

She hopped out of her chair and Lupin took his hands into hers. The young girl was barely half his height, and the two made an odd couple. Not knowing really what to do, Lupin took the girl by the hand and spun her around. Mary giggled and twirled about a few times on her own when he let go, arms above her head like a ballerina. The move was totally out of sync with the type of music, but it didn't seem to matter. 

"Whoa.... whoa...." Mary squealed when she stopped, teetering a few steps. 

"Want to have another go at it?" Lupin replied.

"Well, watch this." The girl pretended to be a jazz dancer and jumped up and down, pumping her arms and moving to the beat. 

"That's what you call dancing?" Lupin laughed and grasped her just under the arms and whirled her around in the air a couple times during the high points of the saxophone riff. 

Mary initially gasped in surprise, then cried out gleefully. "You only know how to make me dizzy!" she accused playfully. "Let's see how you do it." 

"All right then." Lupin slid out further into the street walk and flourished his arms out as if to clear the space. In an exaggerated motion, he made a sweeping bow toward Mary, as if waiting for her cue. Mary loftily waved a hand for him to go on. 

Quickly, he pivoted in the side and moon-walked three steps, with the back of his wrist placed on his forehead while his other am stretched out in front of him. He ended that by spinning around on one heel and repeating in the steps in the opposite direction. It looked like a cross between a horrid Michael Jackson move and something done back in the eighties.

Mary covered her eyes at this display and groaned aloud. "That's really bad!" 

Back at the table, Claire doubled over in laughter. She slapped her hand against the tabletop, her eyes filled with mirth. She paused once to call out, "Remus, you're disgracing yourself!"

"At least I have the will to do so." Lupin gestured with a hand to join them, but Claire shook her head. 

"Oh, no, no, no," she replied, raising her hands in defense, "you're not going to get me into zat!"

Nearby a dark-skinned man and his Angleo-Indian dance partner did a complex swing dance involving many lifts and moves. Lupin watched them for a moment, then clasped Mary's hands in his and started to jitterbug, imitating them. "Much better," Mary commented, referring to his choice of dancing.

Soon, the song died away to be replaced by another one. This tune was soft and fluent, focusing on the lonely cry of the saxophone while the piano played a steady back up. In a low, soothing voice, the singer began:

"She'll let you in her house  
If you come knockin' late at night  
She'll let you in her mouth  
If the words you say are right..."

"Which song is this?" Mary wondered. They exchanged clueless glances. [A/N: Bruce Springsteen's "The Secret Garden" ]

"If you pay the price  
She'll let you deep inside  
But there's a secret garden she hides..."

The smooth jazz was a great contrast from the foot-stomping dance beat of before, creating a more passive atmosphere. The dancers became more lethargic and moved with a sweeping grace. 

Together, Lupin and Mary danced by simply turning in place. Upon the third turn, Lupin saw Claire sitting off by herself, giving them a small grin. Her hands were folded primly in her lap, and she looked quite alone by their table. He bent his head toward Mary and observed, "Do you think Madame looks a bit lonely?"

Mary turned her head at Claire as they continued turning. "Maybe you should dance with her too," Mary said.

"The next dance?"

"She'll let you in her car  
To go drivin' round  
She'll let you into the parts of herself  
That'll bring you down..."

"I think she may need this dance more than I do," she said in a hushed whisper, leading them back to Claire.

Claire gave a surprised look when they came over. "Tired already?" she asked.

"I just thought you might want to dance as well," Lupin said. He was gazing at the crowd so he wouldn't see her response. He glanced over when she took hold of his arm. "If Mary doesn't mind..." she started.

Mary pushed the two with the other dancers. "Go on," she said. " 'Sokay with me."

"She'll let you in her heart  
If you got a hammer and a vise  
But into her secret garden, don't think twice..."

Lupin and Claire looked at each other. "Well, how would you start?" he inquired. He made as if to take her hands, like he did Mary's, but put them back down. It was different when you danced with a child and a woman, wasn't it? He peered up at Madame. When had they ever touched at all? Sure, Lupin had hugged Mary tight and carried her in his arms, but she was just a child, and so loving contact seemed paternal and therefore deemed proper. But with Claire... He cleared his throat and gestured around at the other people in the crowd. "Shall we...?" he started.

She replied uneasily, "I'm not sure... I've never danced like zis before."

"Then we have to make it up as we go along then, don't we?" Lupin carefully encircled Madame's waist as she looped her arms around his neck. He felt his heart beat faster at this close touch. He tried meeting her eyes and she turned away. Was she feeling the same way as he? Then, ever so carefully, the two began to move gently to the music. 

Lupin felt his palms begin to sweat as he placed them at Claire's waist. He hoped she didn't notice, and this worry even caused more nervous reactions. He fumbled a bit, stepping on Claire's foot.

She gasped, "Oh!"

"Sorry," he covered.

Claire gave a lopsided smile. "No 'arm done," she said.

  
"You've gone a million miles  
How far'd you get  
To that place where you can't remember  
And you can't forget..."

As the two moved together, Lupin tried recalling the last time he ever danced with anyone like this. The only person he could think of was Lily Potter. It was during a Hogwarts dance, years and years ago. But Lily had danced with all her male friends. Also, they had made light of their twirl on the dance floor by purposely ramming into the other couples. Yet this dance with Claire wasn't anything like bumper-dancing with Lily. And Lupin had never felt this nervous around Lily either....

"She'll lead you down a path  
There'll be tenderness in the air  
She'll let you come just far enough  
So you know she's really there  
She'll look at you and smile..."

All the while, each tried not to make eye contact with the other. Madame had her head low, staring at their feet. How tender and delicate her hair seemed - now that it was the only thing that Lupin saw - with that little wisp of black down at the nape of her neck. And how gently it swayed with the motion of their dancing. Why, he could blow across her neck, just to watch how her hair billowed-

Lupin stopped himself, embarrassed that he would notice such a thing. Wait.... Did she just notice his reaction? How he halted for that split second before continuing the dance? Oh, if she didn't have her head bowed like that! Maybe he could tell what she was feeling if he only saw her face...

And yet... if she looked up, then she'd see him as well. Oh, that would be worse, wouldn't it? No, not exactly...? If they met eyes now, while dancing like this... well, they were suppose to do that, right? They did decided to dance together after all. Oh, if only Lupin's fluttered feelings weren't confusing him like this! He normally thought logically - really, he did!

Just to see her face, he couldn't help but ask, "Afraid I might step on your toes again?"

Claire looked up with a start and chuckled. "Might as well," she replied, "at ze rate you're dancing."

Lupin swallowed hard and reminded himself that she was only joking. But why only now, after all the time they had spent together, is she finally lightening up? It made him feel uneasy, like he didn't know her. Well, that was true actually. All the contact he had with her was to plan and arrange things from himself and Mary, and those legal discussions every night when Claire had the time. It surprised Lupin to discover that the businesswoman attitude only be a facet, not the core, of Claire's personality. Suddenly, this dance became alarmingly personal and intimate, only because he had never been this close with her before, physically and emotionally.

  
"And her eyes will say  
She's got a secret garden  
Where everything you want   
Where everything you need  
Will always stay  
A million miles away..."

As the song came to a close, Lupin noticed all the nuances about her that he didn't recognize before. Like the way she limped a bit as they moved, a subtle slump on one side. Did she break her leg once, and the limp was the result of the injury?

The scent of lavender came to his nose. Was she wearing perfume? How come he didn't discover that before? This was how close he was to her: close enough to notice her scent. God, that didn't sound right, did it? Geez, Remus, it makes you sound like a wolf during mating season-

Oh, bad thought! Lupin ducked his head quickly.

Claire looked up at him. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You're blushing."

"So are you," he replied.

So she was. Her cheeks grew a faint pink that showed through her make-up. "I guess zis is really awkward zen, isn't it?"

"Not that bad..."

A saxophone solo came next, and the two didn't exchange another word until the song ended. As the others around them clapped at the players and threw more money, the two detached from one another in a hesitant way.

Claire put a hand up to adjust her hair and Lupin waved back at Mary. Mary had her chin in her hands as she stared at them, a dreamy look on her face. Now what was she thinking about them?

"That was, um..."

"Rather pleasant," Madame put in. 

"Yes," he affirmed. "You are, uh, a good dancer."

"And you could be a good dancer... eventually," Claire replied with that familiar bluntness. The two cracked a smile at each other.

Then Claire checked her watch and gasped.

"The phone call!" she said. "My cousin will be calling in fifteen minutes!"

Lupin then checked his watch. "I apologize for keeping us so late out here-"

"Only zree 'ours," Claire was saying.

"I could Apparate us back," Lupin offered.

"With all zese Muggles around?" Claire said. "And you know all Apparation Spells leave a certain magic trail..."

"Just this once," Lupin said. He gestured over to Mary and she skipped up to them. "You two looked wicked nice together," she said.

"Um, thank you, Mary," Lupin said quickly. "C'mon, we have to get back to the Safehouse for Claire's meeting."

He ushered them to a nearby alley. "I can Apparate, but you have to hold on to me. It's harder if you're doing more than yourself."

Mary had no idea what Apparation was, but she nodded and took hold on Lupin's hand. He and Claire gave each other sideways looks, but wordlessly, Claire put her arm around Lupin's waist. He got that same jumpy feeling at this touch, but focused on the he had to do. After making sure none of the Muggles were looking, he took out his wand and waved it in the air.

"_Apparatus_," he commanded. 

The world dissolved and faded for a split second. When their surroundings reverted back together again, they were across the street in front of the Safehouse. "Just in time," Claire said, relieved. She leaned her head against his shoulder and held him tighter for a spilt moment, as in a brief hug. "_Merci_," she said, before leaving for the house.

He was shocked at her affectionate touch. Yet how was it different than all the times Mary had held his hand, or he had carried her up on his shoulders. How can he differentiate so much between feelings for a child of his and this woman - practically a stranger. He couldn't answer that question, but, for whatever reason, her touch seemed to burn. Burn, yet not hurt.

Mary had to guide Lupin back to the building, asking, "Remmy, why are you acting so weird today...?"

Chapter 14

Almost a month into their stay at the London Safehouse, Lupin found Claire sitting in the kitchen pouring over the _Daily Prophet_. Every day at exactly six o' clock in the morning, he would wake up, dress, and come to the kitchen while Mary was still in bed in order to figure out what to plan to do that day and sort it out with Madame over a cup of _café au lait_. 

One of the things they went over was a payment plan. He felt guilty for asking for so much money to take Mary places, but he and Claire officially made an agreement in which she would supply him with the cash in exchange for Lupin to do minor jobs around the Safehouse that she couldn't do on her own. She rejected using magical means for most things. Lupin personally thought that Claire detested magic only because she could never perform so openly like he did. By now, he figured how that Claire knew more about magic than she let on. If she ever possessed her own wand, though, her attitude toward magic might change drastically.

"Good morning, Claire," Lupin said when he sat down at the table. He picked up a hot croissant from a nearby plate and bit into it.

"_Bonjour_, Remus," she replied cheerfully, taking a sip of coffee as she scanned the headlines. Since the outing to the movies, Claire had greatly improved in her disposition towards Lupin. Looking up, she handed the paper to him. "You might be interested in zis article 'ere," she commented.

He read it out loud. " 'Heroic Harry Potter Boldly Faces Challenges of Triwizard Tournament.' " Lupin glanced at Madame. "Since when did Harry make it as Hogwarts champion?"

" 'E isn't, technically," Claire verified. "During ze selection ceremony of champions a few weeks ago, ze Goblet of Fire picked out 'is name along wiz zree ozzars." She shrugged. "Officials 'ad no choice but to put 'im in."

"That's odd..." Lupin went on to read the rest of the article, written by Rita Skeeter. It mostly contained a very descriptive look at Harry and his life. Some parts Lupin was surprised to read.

Tears fill those startling green eyes as our conversation turns to the parents he can barely remember. [Lupin skimmed aloud.] Harry recalled fondly his loving parents, who, as the entire wizarding world knows, were tragically murdered by He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named during Harry's mere infancy.

"I suppose I get my strength from my parents," he explained tearfully. "I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now.... Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it..." 

Lupin went on to read the rest, pointing out more comments that didn't seem characteristic of Harry to say.

"I had a hard life, indeed. Being labeled as an orphan from the very start, I struggle daily with my identity and proving myself to others," were his noble words. "Yet my personal philosophy is not to care what others say, and just to try to live everyday knowing that my fate must lie in a prominent spot in the grand scheme of things." 

Soon, we began to talk about his odds of success in the Triwizard Tournament, which is known as much for its fatalities as it is for its winners. "I know it is not likely that I shall win this Tournament, but I shall try," Harry told me with grim determination in his eyes. "When I was selected by the Goblet I know that it was my duty - it was my _destiny_ - to represent Hogwarts with as much strength and courage as I can muster."

The one of the last bits about Harry's life was especially surprising:

Harry has found love at last at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in school....

Lupin put down the paper, stunned. "This is one of the most ridiculous articles I've ever read in my life," he finally managed to say. "Either I don't know Harry at all, or this Rita Skeeter is grossly exaggerating things."

"Ze First Task is going to be 'eld November 25," Claire supplemented. "Ze full moon is in two days. You could still travel to witness ze task if you would like."

He sighed. Something strange was going on if Harry was selected to be in the Tournament. It went against the regulations for someone his age to qualify. Someone could have sabotaged with the Goblet to let him participate.

The whole thing reeked of suspicion. Lupin wondered how much Sirius knew of this situation. Black was the boy's godfather, yet being a current fugitive he might not be able to be there for Harry at the Tournament.

Lupin was in danger if he went there too. Yet the werewolf attacker of Havenshire was still a mystery to the Registry of Magical Creatures; he had paid special attention to the news to be sure of that. There was the possibility that he could return to Hogwarts to witness the First Task and not be caught....

"November 25?" Lupin said thoughtfully. "That's 13 days from now."

"Plenty of time to travel," Claire said, "since 'Ogwarts and ze surrounding area are shielded from Apparation spells." She paused. "I know a man who can 'elp get you zair."

"Really?" Lupin looked at her curiously.

" 'E boarded 'ere a couple years ago. 'E... specializes in a few things."

"What _things_?" he asked cautiously.

"Nothing zat bends ze law too much. Only _minor_ things. Just to get by." Claire seemed to stress this part greatly. Just to get by. That was Lupin's justification as well.

Lupin thought it over. Stealing train rides, food, and clothing were one thing. Practicing magic illegally and sneaking into a publicly-restricted tournament was another. And to think he was known as the morally straight man. And to think she was known for hosting a government-endorsed program for the poor and homeless. Lupin wondered whether hypocrisy was something common in all people, or was it just werewolves. 

The thought that maybe he would be going to far with his standards by sneaking into the games bothered him. Yet, as he suddenly realized, what was far? Life wasn't fair, was it? He confirmed that long ago. Only thing there was to do was the right thing. For instance, raising Mary was the right thing. 

So he was going for the better good: to look after Harry. Sirius was a fugitive; he couldn't possibly attend. He would have wanted someone to look after his godson, right? Over the summer, the two had crossed paths. It wasn't for very long; Sirius was still constantly on the move and didn't want to drag the werewolf down with him if he were caught. But for the scant few days they had been together, their friendship had been quickly renewed. Now that the long-held suspicion of Sirius was wiped away, Lupin felt the need to make up for it. He should go to look after Harry, for his and Sirius' sake. 

It was, all in all, the right thing to do. 

"And you would keep an eye on Mary for me while I'm gone?" he said slowly.

"Of course. I know zat you might need to be zair for 'Arry. 'E was a former student of yours, _non_?"

"More of a friend than a student." Lupin picked up his jacket on a hook by the back kitchen door. "I'll leave after the full moon."

"Where are you going now?"

"I have to buy some paint. Need to have a room painted before I go. Oh, you wouldn't mind that, would you Claire?"

"Paint?"

"Decorating can liven a place up a bit," Lupin winked, gesturing to the plain walls.

"All right," Madame said, taking a sip of her coffee. She gave a little smile to herself as she watched Lupin slip out of the door. "I suppose."

***

Mary was having breakfast when Lupin returned.

"Hi Remmy," she greeted. "What's that?"

"Just some paint." Lupin put down the large bag his was carrying on the table and took out a gallon can. "Will this shade of green do?"

"We're really painting?" Mary asked joyfully.

"I promised we would."

"I thought you forgot!" Mary slid down from her seat and reached up to try and see the rest of the bag's contents. 

"C'mon." He took up the bag with one arm and grasped Mary's hand with the other as they headed upstairs.

"We'll have to get some painting clothes for you," Lupin was saying as they ascended the stairs. "Then you can help me lay out the drop cloths and we can start."

"I want to paint the unicorns," Mary said excitedly. "And a castle too, with a princess."

"You mean one of those medieval types? With the moat and the towers?"

"And the dragon!" Mary added.

Entering their room, Lupin fished out some spare robes that he had gotten from Claire earlier. "Try these on," he said while putting on his.

Mary threw the robe over her head. It trailed down along the floor; she was much too small for them. She lifted the extra cloth and tucked it into the robe's waist belt. 

While she changed, Lupin moved the furniture out of the room. He used his wand for this, and Mary watched with awe as the heavy pieces were lifted and quickly shoved out into the hallway. In seconds he had the drop cloths laid out and taped down in the same manner.

"Ready to start?" Lupin handed Mary a wide-handled paintbrush and got one from himself.

"Mind if I 'elp?" 

He looked up to see the head mistress at the front of the room. She was dressed in a set of dark gray robes, with a green bandanna to tie back her black hair with. Claire arched an eyebrow at them. "Might as well supervise at least. I do own ze building."

Lupin tossed her an extra brush. "This is a non-magical venture," he informed her with mock seriousness. "Manual labor is something you prefer?"

Madame de Chien-Loup pretended to look shocked. "Oh? _Moi_? You expect me to get my 'ands dirty?"

"Better late than never." Lupin opened up a paint can by hand and dipped his brush in. Flicking the bristles, he splattered a bit of paint at her. Claire jumped back, letting the drops hit the drop cloth.

"Was zat on purpose, Monsieur?" she said haughtily. 

"Only if you think it is."

Mary dragged the a wet brush along the bottom of Lupin's robes. "Got ya first!" she giggled.

"Why you-" Lupin swiped his brush at her, getting paint across the front. 

"Hey!" Mary grinned, dripping the brush in the can again and giving a return swing. She missed by a wide shot.

"Want to try again?" Lupin teased.

"I would." Claire stood behind him with a paint-soaked brush and whipped a line of green on his back. "Perfect."

"Really?" Lupin whirled around and got paint up her sleeve. "Bet you can't do it twice."

"Is zat a challenge?" Claire took a defensive stance with her brush. "_En garde_!"

"_Oui!_" 

The two parried with their brushes across the room, making exaggerated thrusts and blows. "Got you!" Claire said triumphantly, swiping her brush at him.

Lupin ducked. "Missed!"

"You say." Claire pointed behind him. Lupin turned to see that Mary was painting little circles and dashes across the back of his robes. 

"_Viva_ _la femme_, Mary?" Claire asked jokingly, picking up the paint bucket.

"Girl power!" Mary declared and the two attacked with their paint brushes, making random streaks of paint across his already stained robes.

Lupin laughed out loud. "It's not fair!" he protested, raising his hands over his head. "I'm outnumbered!" He grabbed Mary by the waist and gathered her up in his arms. She cried out in surprise as she was lifted up on his shoulders. 

"How dare you side with the bossy landlady?" he chided merrily.

"Bossy am I?" Claire said. She put a hand to her hip and held out her brush with the other one. "Maybe I should order you to wash ze floors and clear out ze sink pipes again. Teach you your place!"

"I think the terror of that stove of yours taught me my place," Lupin scoffed playfully. "I'm just the handy-wolf around here, huh?"

"You're more than that, Remmy." Mary confided. She leaned forward and daubed a bit of green on his nose. "You're fun to tease."

"Like now with me covered in paint?" Lupin put her down and flourished the splattered robes. "I thought we were suppose to be painting the room." He waved a hand to the immaculate white walls.

"Painting you is much more entertaining," Claire winked. "But I suppose zat we 'ave to use some of zis paint appropriately. Bossy landlady's orders," she added slyly.

"Okay then." Mary picked up the brush again. "Ready for the dragons?" she asked Lupin.

"I could pass off for a Welsh Green in this," Lupin replied.

"With ze same attitude as one as well," Claire chimed in.

"_Touché._"

"Picking up some of my French now?"

"Welsh Greens are known to be intelligent creatures."

"Betcha I can paint more than a Welsh Green or a bossy landlady," Mary cut in, smirking as she started to paint sideways across the wall.

"Are you sure to want to bet?" Lupin asked readily.

***

The three of them spent all day painting. Half of the paint they managed to get on themselves rather than the walls, but the little they had covered well enough. When the base coat dried, Claire showed Mary how to lay out the outline of a basic castle picture on the walls and painted it in with gray and silver. The girls worked on the castle details, while Lupin attempted to draw a Hungarian Horntail. Madame de Chien-Loup commented on how the Horntail looked more like a spiky dog than a dragon, but Mary loved it nonetheless.

Claire seemed the only one with the knack for mural painting ("Among ozzar mundane things," she had hinted) and placed a life-sized unicorn by the window for Mary. The stallion was as tall as herself, with a flowing mane and a spiraling horn that touched the ceiling. If Madame didn't have her Safehouses to run, one would think that she would have become an artist.

At the end of the day, they all sat down in the center of the room, gazing at their work. A towering castle stood in the center of the far wall. A little princess leaned out of the battlement, waving a handkerchief at the sea serpent stretched out in the moat. The mural went on to depict a knight in silver-plated armor, fighting the Hungarian Horntail with a sharp tipped lance. The unicorn was separate from the medieval scene, prancing by in a forest of greens and browns.

"Not bad," Claire assessed, reclining on the floor. She took off her bandanna and brushed her hair back. "Not bad at all."

"I think it's very pretty," Mary said. She was leaning against Claire's side. Mary yawned. "Could we do this again sometime?" she asked sleepily.

"If you want," Lupin mused. "We could have the whole house done if we had the time." He ruffled Mary's blonde hair. "You tired?"

"A little..." Mary snuggled against Claire and sighed.

"We will 'ave to find anuzzer room for you two to sleep in tonight," Claire said, "while zis one dries."

"It is rather late is it?" Lupin looked out the window at the black sky. "We spent all day...?"

"Manual labor 'as a tendency to take awhile to accomplish." Claire rose to her feet, holding Mary in her arms. The little girl's head drooped forward on the lady's shoulder; Mary had fallen asleep.

"You want to take 'er?" she whispered. Lupin nodded, and Claire passed the child for him to hold. Their hands touched. They let go quickly as Lupin supported Mary. 

"Well, um, I guess I'll take the room next door," he said quickly.

"Oh yes," Claire agreed. She looked down at her feet with slight embarrassment. 

Lupin carried Mary out of the room. "Good night, Claire," he called over his shoulder.

"_Bon soir_, Remus." Claire watched him enter the room across the hall. An endearing sight, with the angelic child over his shoulder clutching at his paint-covered robes. She quickly shook her head as if dismissing the thought and left the room, turning off the lights behind her. 

Chapter 15

Time flew and the night that Lupin had been dreading all month arrived at last. The night of November 14, the night of the full moon.

He paced their newly painted room, trying to find the right words to say. The sun had already set and in a few minutes the moon will rise. They had spent all day at the Safehouse, with Lupin explaining to Mary exactly what would happen. What the change felt like, as her body metamorphosed into that of a beast. What her mind will become, as her human mind would shut down and be taken over by the base instincts of a ravenous wolf. What the outcome would be, as Mary lost her humanity, her consciousness, her soul.

Oh, and her reaction to these explanations! Mary was completely silent that day, huddled up on the bed sheets. She seemed to absorb all this information he was telling her and looked as if she was about to explode if another point was added. Lupin felt wretched to tell her this, but this was the truth that she needed to know in order to survive the change. He feared that she would turn insane after the first time. He almost did.

Mary sat on the bed, watching him with anxious eyes. She knew the importance of this night also, and the fear was evident on her face, which was very pale. Her lower lip quivered as if she might break into tears.

_I don't want it to be like it was with me,_ Lupin reasoned. _It was a disaster, that time. Murphy and I had no idea what to expect...._ But he knew what to expect this time around. He determined not to foul up the first transformation with Mary. 

"Mary," he suddenly addressed, turning to face the girl. "I know that we're a bit worried about tonight..."

She sat there hugging her knees, not answering. She was always silent when upset.

"But I want you to remember one thing." Lupin kneeled down to her level and took hold of her hands. "Mary, are you listening?"

She met his eyes with a trembling stare. Her eyes were glassy as she held back her tears.

"No, no, it'll be all right," Lupin comforted, brushing a hand against her cheek. She sniffed and let the first tear fall.

"I'm scared," she said in a tiny voice, the first thing she had said all day.

"I know," he replied. "I'm scared too. But we have to be very brave tonight. Can you be a brave little girl for Remmy?"

Mary nodded.

"That a girl." Lupin hugged Mary tight, and she threw her small arms around him in return. 

"I won't hurt anyone?" she asked timidly.

"No." Lupin tugged at something around his neck and took it off. It was that silver chain with the holy cross and the identification tags. He had fixed the clasp the day Mary had returned it to him and had not taken it off since.

Lupin showed the chain to her. "I take courage from this," he said softly. "Whenever I was alone or scared, I would take my strength from the cross. It was my father's. It had helped me many times in the past." He carefully put the chain around Mary's neck. "I want you to wear this tonight."

Mary touched the warm metal. She was confused. Didn't this chain belong to that wolf who-? Mary looked up into Lupin's eyes. She wanted to ask about this, but her apprehension for what will happen superseded that concern. Instead, she asked, "You sure you won't need it?" 

"I don't need it as much anymore." Lupin smiled with sincere eyes. "I have you."

_Knock, knock, knock._

Lupin got up to open the door. Mary followed him.

Madame Claire de Chien-Loup stood outside. Her face seemed drained of color and she was holding her hands together anxiously. "It is time," she said solemnly.

Silently, they made their way down the hall. Claire steered them toward the basement, opening the door and letting them pass before she shut it behind her. Lupin took note that the door was made of solid steel.

A long wooden stairway descended before them and Claire took a Muggle flashlight and flicked it on, giving them enough light to see by. Climbing down the stairs, Lupin felt Mary grab his hand. He squeezed it reassuringly.

At the bottom of the stairwell were several doors, each made of heavy wood and iron crossbeams. They all faced the direction of the moonrise, so that the single moment that the moon rose, each would be filled with its light. This must be so that one wouldn't have to wait too long until the change occurred.

Claire opened up the first door and pushed it open. The room was four by three meters, with brick walls and a small window blocked with thick bars. "Ze holding chambers are made for one only," she explained. "Which of you would like to go first?"

"But this is her first time," Lupin objected. "I want to be there with her."

Madame shook her head. "Ze wolf spirit takes over, do you not remember? You won't be yourselves. What if you attack each ozzar?"

Lupin placed both hands on Mary's shoulders. "We won't. A wolf never attacks its pup."

Mary looked up at him in amazement. She knew it, she knew it! But she couldn't make herself say anything of it, not when the moon was so near. Her stomach jumped and a strange feeling grew inside her. The changes were about to begin.

Claire crossed her arms over her chest, looking at her tenants. It was the first time Lupin openly acknowledged his parentage. She sighed and gave in. "But be careful," she said. She leaned down to kiss Mary on the top of her head. Claire then leaned forward, but placed a hand on his shoulder instead. "Good luck."

The heavy door shut behind them, and the sound of locks fastening were heard. A few moments later, another door was heard slamming shut as Claire locked herself in a holding chamber next door. 

Lupin sat down with his back pressed to the wall, facing the small window. The moonlight flowed into the room and fell on his lowered head. 

Mary groaned and curled up into a little ball. "I...I... don't feel so good..." she whimpered. The light graced her hair, turning it white. 

He nodded in reply. The transformation was just beginning for him too, but Mary, being the younger one, would be the one to start changing first.

"Remember," he whispered, straining against the magic in order to tell her one last thing. "You are human, Mary. You're never the wolf. Always. Human." 

From outside the room, they heard Claire scream from the next room. A loud _thud_ was heard as the lady werewolf threw herself against the brick wall. The changes had already begun for her.

She was yelling something in French, too fast for Lupin to decipher. "_Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, mon Dieu, mon Dieu, aidez-moi, aidez-moi Dieu...!_" 

Mary shuddered and cried out and Lupin lifted his head toward the sound. The wolf was already taking over for her. 

Her face was lengthening, with her ears stretching and moving toward the top of her head. Her clothes were melding with her body and blonde-gold fur shot out. She was yelling out too, in fear and pain. 

A sharp stab shot up his spine and Lupin knew his time had come as well. Muscles twitching, body shaking, he collapsed onto the concrete floor, clawing it with his bare hands. His shoulder blades moved back as his arms and legs shortened. A sickening crunch was heard as his knees reverted themselves. "God!" he gasped, his vision blurring.

Mary was still changing with him. Her small hands and feet were becoming twisted into wolf paws. The tail shot out and the fur grew longer, shaggier. Her size increased twofold; she was becoming larger and shaggier.

"Papa! Papa!" She was yelling, she was twisting, she was changing. It was horrible, this pain, this agony, this monthly torture!

And with every moment of the transformation, the steady amount of pain increased. It was always painful and Lupin shut his eyes to Mary. The girl-pup was rolling on the floor, with her shaggy, grotesque head whipping about, a long yowl escaping her lips. Claire's shouting echoed from the next room, except her voice was becoming more bestial. She didn't call out for God to help her; she had no voice. She wasn't speaking anymore - none of them could. All that could arise from their savage throats was the inhuman wail of the beast within.

"Hooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwlllll!!!" Lupin could hear Claire call in her wolf body. Then...

_Thump! Thump!_

The walls shook around them as he and his pup changed. Claire the Wolfhound was banging against the door to her holding chamber.

God, god, god, god! Lupin felt like he was about to pass out before the change was completed, that he would die before it was all over. Yet Mary's screams made it all worse. The night of the change has eerie parallels to the night she was made. The illusion memory came back of him holding Mary down, ready to rip at her voice out as she screamed-

"Papa...!" Mary gasped from the concrete floor. "Papa...! Pa- rrrrooooooowww... Rowwwlll!"

_Thump!_ The walls shook again.

_This is hell_, he thought delusionally, his eyes rolling towards the back of his head. _This is hell and I've sent Mary to hell and I'm the devil._

That was the last human thought he had.

His humanity was like sand pouring through a sieve. Faster and faster and faster, draining, leaving him, leaving Mary, leaving Claire. 

And then, suddenly, the wolf howled from the depths of his soul. This howl seemed to grow larger and larger, taking over any sane thought, absorbing any logical reasoning, destroying any human nature within him. 

He wasn't Remus Jacob Lupin any longer. He wasn't a man any longer. He wasn't even Moony, that friendly nickname of his childhood years. For this monstrosity could not be classified by any human title.

He was the wolf. He was savagery. 

This was the curse of the werewolf. 

This was the sin of Lycaos.

"Hooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwlllllllllllll!!"

Chapter 16

On the other side of London at the Bowingburg Center for Animal Research, a Muggle security guard looked up from his newspaper. He was quite fat, bald, and up there in the years, but his hearing had always been very keen. Keen hearing was an important plus to his job. And that Muggle security guard could have sworn that he heard an animal howling.

He sighed and looked out his open window. Nothing. It had to be nothing. The security guard checked the various monitor screens in front of him. Again nothing. 

Well, he couldn't help but be a little paranoid, now could he? The Bowingburg Center had procession of some extremely valuable animal DNA samples in their laboratory. The samples had something to do with that animal attack in Havenshire about a month ago. Several veterinarians and zoologists were called down there to identify some fur samples found at the site, and now they were all excited. A whole new DNA spectrum, they were all saying. A new animal discovered in England! A wolf with human DNA! The scientists already had an unofficial name dubbed for it: _Homo lupus_. 

The Muggle security guard leaned back in his swivel chair and took another sip of his coffee. To him it was a personal thrill to know that he was guarding a breakthrough in the animal kingdom. He checked the monitors again. Nothing. Ah, just another night on the job.

***

Meanwhile, in laboratory 7, a wizard Apparated. He was dressed in clean-cut black Muggle clothing for the job, since robes would have been much too cumbersome. If the Muggle security guard looked into the monitor for laboratory 7 at that moment, he would have been surprised to see a man with dressed in black who was missing half an arm. The wizard didn't really miss half an arm however; he just had an Invisibility Cloak slung over it. The wizard then put on the cloak and disappeared entirely from the cameras.

Not much was known about this wizard in particular. He worked for the Department of Mysteries, but that was it. He had no official file, no name, no true identity that could be associated with the Registry of Magical Creatures or the Ministry. This wizard was a covert operations expert, a spy, known to wizards as one of the Unspeakables. The type of wizard that no one was suppose to know about other than the top officials. He was only known by one code name: Croaker.

The wizard was an expert in the Muggle world; it was part of his job. He was assigned to cover up any evidence that may lead the Muggle world to believe in the existence of magic. The past few weeks have been hell for him, with this werewolf attack. 

Always one step ahead of the Muggle authorities, he planted predator evidence in the woods surrounding Havenshire to be picked up by the Muggle's Animal Control. Making a false den for this "unknown animal," placing prey remains and feces around the woods (much to his disgust), releasing recordings of animal howling into the air every few nights - Croaker established this elaborate cover up to make the Muggles think that there really _was_ a rabid beast roaming the woods.  False articles were printed in papers, warning of a wild dog rampaged the countryside, origins unknown, and yet was alarmingly possessed rabies (Muggle authorities were still investigating where the beast came from, of course).  Yesterday he dumped the corpse of a timber wolf, dead from rabies, a kilometer into the woods surrounding the town. Once the Muggle police find that, then all questions concerning Mary Grisham's death would be neatly covered up. Only one thing remained, which he was now in the process of resolving.

Tonight's assignment was to steal a certain sample of werewolf DNA.

Croaker pointed his wand at several cameras that were situated around the room. At his magic, their tapes froze, so the scene that showed up at the security monitor would be at a standstill. Then, the wizard pointed to the locked box in the corner - the laser control mechanism. It immediately shut down, and the invisible detector lasers disappeared.

Too easy. These Muggles and their poor protection methods... Croaker smiled to himself as he looked around. Near the back of the laboratory was several cryogenic chambers, where the samples were kept. Walking his way over, he lifted up the cover to the first one, releasing a small _hiss_ as the cold camber was unlocked. Each DNA sample was hooked into a column-shaped shelf and clinked together as he pulled them up. Wisps of cold vapor snaked its way into the outside air as Croaker scanned the samples. Homo lupus...Homo lupus... Homo lupus.... nope not here.

Turning to the next chamber, he opened it and lifted up the samples. Yes, here it was! The sample was extremely small of course, only half a vial. Easy to dispose of.

He picked the sample up, replacing it with an identical one containing blood from the rabid wolf. Croaker didn't bother thinking about changing the reports and paperwork on this case. Once the Muggle scientists test the sample again and find the human chromosomes gone, they'll just admit that they had a mistake and change the data themselves.

Glancing at the vial, he shook his head. Muggles and their damned technology, so easy to manipulate. He wouldn't destroy the werewolf DNA sample here, but when he got back to the Registry of Magical Creatures. Yet he could do something....

He waved his wand and whispered, "_Idemus_."

The vial glowed red and a voice whispered in his head, "Registration Number 4765."

Ah, it was a registered werewolf! When he returned, he would report this information to the Head of the Registry. After that, hunting this creature down would be only a matter of time.

Croaker tucked the sample into his robes, congratulating himself on another job well done. He Disapparated.

***

Sergeant Bailey put down the file and rubbed his eyes. A single desk lamp provided the light he needed. His office was littered with various folders and papers, and on his desk were several other cases he still needed to review and do the paperwork for. All minor crimes: an auto theft, a mugging, and some vandalism. Yet the files still needed to be processed for the courts tomorrow; he had to get them done tonight. The officer sighed and slumped forward, putting an elbow up on his desk. He hated working overtime.

The police station was quiet, all except for a few others staying late for their own work. The Sergeant himself was reviewing a supposedly simple case. A girl from Havenshire had been killed last month, mauled by a rabid wolf. A week or so after the incident, police found the creature's lair, featuring various animal remains. The creature itself appeared to be a rabid wolf, whose carcass was found only yesterday. It seems as if the creature died from its own disease before attacking anyone else. 

However, this creature could be no ordinary animal. Sergeant Bailey had just finished looking over a scientific report sent in from the Bowingburg Center for Animal Research in London. According to their DNA analysis, this creature was could be an entirely new animal species. For, it said in the report, two types of DNA evidence was found at the crime scene. One was blood and tissue remains of the victim, a Mary Grisham. Several fur samples, however, revealed a strange combination of genetic material from a wolf and a human, combined to form a whole new organism. The homo lupus, the report called it.

Sergeant Bailey was never a very intellectual sort of person, and so he accepted all the scientific information without a second thought, figuring it was all over his head yet still undeniably true. However, two things still bothered him. Firstly, according to the victim's father, a Reverend Kevin Grisham, he talked with Mary in the Havenshire church at 6 o' clock in the evening. Mary left the church first for home about five minutes later, and by unfortunate accident, Reverend Grisham tripped upon the stairwell and broke his glasses. Upon repairing them, which took about fifteen or so minutes, he first heard Mary's screams from outside. He came out of the church to discover the bloody remains at around 6:20. That would calculate that in the total amount of fifteen minutes, Mary Grisham was killed and the body dragged off for consumption by the wolf.  Secondly, the _wolf_ had _rabies_.  Neither wolves nor the disease should exist in England.

Now, Sergeant Bailey had been on the force for some twenty-odd years, and he had seen several animal attacks on children in his time. Yet for one killing to occur so swiftly, and by such an usual creature carrying such an unusual disease, and to have both the creature and the victim to leave the scene in under fifteen minutes? Impossible!

He gave one last look at the file containing the animal attack and put it down in his "Resolved Records" pile. It was an open and shut case, this one. A rabid wolf killed Mary Grisham and that was that. He didn't have any information to explain anything else.  The Center for Disease Control will be having a hell of a time with this incident, but then again, if something like mad cow disease could crop out of no where and bloom out of control, who could say that all the animals here were rabies-free? 

Sleepily, he picked up the vandalism case. Geez, he could go for a cup of coffee right about now.

***

While one case was ending, another was just going into full swing. Croaker was on the move with this new information he had, his sample of werewolf's blood. In a few hours of time, the Registry of Magical Creatures would send an all-out alert to Ministry officials everywhere to be on the lookout for werewolf Number 4765. Remus J. Lupin.


	5. Hidden Man, Hidden Beast

For disclaimer and additional notes see part 1.

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Five: Hidden Man, Hidden Beast

by D.M.P.

***

When he is best, he is little worse than man; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast.

-William Shakespeare, _The Merchant of Venice_

***

Chapter 17

The night passed in the way that animals can remember it - scent, instinct, bestial intelligence. Minute by minute, hour by hour, the moon made its slow but steady passage across the sky. Its silver light filtered through the steel bars of the holding chambers of the London Safehouse. There, three wolves were locked in the basement: a French wolfhound, a brown-gray lone hunter, and a little golden pup. 

Locked in by herself, the wolfhound threw herself at the steel door. _Thump, thump, thump..._ The unceasing noise moved like the rhythm of a giant's heart. _Thump, thump, thump..._ Her instincts were high on alert, but her dark gray eyes were dull and lackluster. 

Out. She needed to be out. It became an obsessive thought, clouding her unsteady mind. She needed to hunt. She needed to taste fresh meat. She needed to hunt. She needed to taste fresh meat. She needed to taste blood. She needed to go out. She needed to be free. To leave, to escape, to go, to flee. Out!

_Thump!_

Her body crashed into the wall, sending a dull pain through her spine and rib cage. But the pain was non-existent; it meant nothing. Her primitive, one-track mind did not even register it. It could only focus on the single goal that raged in every animal. All that was essential to her life was to get past these walls. All that mattered was to hunt. All that mattered was to be free.

And that obsessive thought was destroying her.

In distress, the wolfhound cried out. _Out!_ she said in her wolf tongue. _Out!_

"Howwwwwwwwwwwwwllll!" 

In the chamber next door, the hunter lifted his head at the call. _Out! Out!_ the wolfhound was saying. Out to taste the wind, to run the fields, to stalk the prey. Out! 

_Yes!_ he agreed. He was pacing the small room, his hazel eyes scanning for a way to escape. His mind did not have the obtuseness that drove the wolfhound mad. He was a logical beast, a calculating predator. A true wolf, not a handicapped mutt.

With his sharp eyes, he quickly scanned the area. Four walls. Three lengths by five lengths. At the far corner was a window. How high? Cannot be sure. Two lengths, three? Come to window. Jump. Jump! Jump! In a lucky bound, the wolf clung to the edge of the window, but then lost his grip and tumbled to the ground. He miffed in annoyance and left the window alone. Too high to reach, and blocked by bars. Too bad, really. 

He then tested the ground beneath his feet. Rough, with the occasional loose bits of gravel. But it couldn't be dug into - no loose soil. No cracks or markings to pry at. Solid ground. 

The hunter approached the door and jumped back on his hind legs to place his fore paws on the metal. Hard. Cold. No scent. He tapped the metal with his nose and scratched at the door. The steel was slippery, causing his paws to skid. The wolf backed off before he could tumble head over paws. This was impossible to break.

Only conclusion: there was no escape. 

However, the wolf couldn't accept this. No, no, there has to be a way! Has to be a way! He needed to be free! He needed to hunt! The hunter growled in outrage and slammed against the steel door. The metal bellowed out with a hollow _clang_ and the hunter was thrown off, hitting the concrete ground.

For a few moments, he lay there, panting. A dull ached radiated from his shoulder where he had rammed the door. Yes, that was too hard to break.

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_ The repetitive beat thumped incessantly in the background. _Out! Out! Out!_ A single word expressed with rapid barks. The noble-blooded mutt wanted to hunt, that was clear enough.

_Dumb female_, the wolf thought arrogantly. Something was wrong with her, but he couldn't figure out what it was. 

But the feeling she expressed was mutual. To hunt and to taste the flesh was what the wolf craved. The wolf remembered the taste of prey, very good prey. Prey that walked on two legs, that talked in strange sounds. He couldn't catch one last time; it escaped somehow. Ah, because it had an essence, a taste that repelled him for a moment and made him run away.

The hunter didn't know what the taste was, but the man hidden within the hunter did. It was the taste of divine innocence that drove the wolf away the first time. 

But for that single moment, the raw, hot stream of prey's blood in his mouth! That was good, very good. The wolf needed to taste that again.

The hunter - savagery - craved human blood.

In that room with the hunter was the little pup, with golden fur and blue eyes. Curled up near the center of the room, she watched the hunter pace restlessly. They wanted to go out, he and the wolfhound. They were planning to escape, if they could only find a way. 

But she, the pup, didn't want to leave. Something - she didn't know what - was calling to her. A voice, a strange voice, a human voice. It bothered the pup greatly. The voice was repeated only a single line that her animal mind couldn't comprehend. "Remember. You are human, Mary," it said. "You're never the wolf. Always. Human."

The pup blinked and looked up at the hunter. He said that, didn't he? Those alien words which had no meaning to her were said by the hunter. But not as a wolf like her. As a different creature.

"Always. Human." She didn't understand those words.

She was a wolf, just like the hunter, just like the wolfhound next door. Whatever "human" was, she was not that.

The pup sighed and lowered her head. The words echoed in her head meaninglessly.

Meanwhile, the hunter wouldn't rest. He continued pacing the room, his frustration growing. He had to leave! He was trapped! Trapped! He stared at the brick wall in front of him, his eyes narrowing. He lowered his head, laid his ears back and bent his front legs, crouching for an attack. This was a trick! He knew there had to be a way out. No one was going to trap him!

"Rrrooooaaaarrrrr!" The hunter sprang upon the wall. A crushing, breaking sound was heard as the wolf ferociously beat against it, slashing with oversized claws as he vented out his rage. Bits of stone dust and chipped rock flew as the supernatural creature madly hacked at the walls, insane on the thought of freedom. From the other side, the wolfhound barked, cheering him on.

The pup got up to her paws. What was he doing? She yipped at him, telling him to stop. 

The hunter whirled to face her, growling. Still fueled with rage, he turned away from the wall and approached the pup, his head lowered. His hazel eyes flashed with male dominance as he addressed the pup. He leaped forward and snapped at the pup's tail. She shied away in fear, the wolf's jaws a hairsbreadth away from claiming her flesh. The hunter bounded forward, boxing off the pup into a corner. Teeth bared, the hunter emitted a low growl from the back of his throat. It was a warning. _Never defy me_, the wolf threatened.

The pup whined in a meek voice. She understood.

The hunter lifted his head back up and stared down at the pup condescendingly. _You help escape?_ he seemed to be asking.

The pup hesitated and shrank back. Inner knowledge told her that the hunter could easily break her neck in his jaw. He could beat her skull in if he wanted to. He could rip her side open and feast on her insides while she cried out in pain. This was the wolf; he was fully capable of any evil intent he deemed worthy to commit.

She whimpered in submission. She would not help, but neither would she stop him.

The hunter gave a quick nod, a human gesture, and turned away from the pup. He knew that he could never hurt her. The magic between them was too intimate; if she dies by his tooth and claw, he shall die also. If he were to attack her, he would be attacking himself. But threats were apt enough to put the pup into submission. 

That matter over with, he paced the edge of the room. With his sudden furor subdued, he thought more logically. The hunter decided that breaking out through force would do no good anyway. Another method of escape had to be found.

As the hunter walked away, the pup shuddered to herself. Her heart, which had been racing in near-panic only moments ago, began to slow. She exhaled in relief.

Curling up into a tight ball in the corner, she closed her eyes. Her immediate fear of the hunter was gone, only replaced by a respectful wariness. 

The voice continued. "You're never the wolf, Mary..."

The pup blinked. She understood that! Never the wolf.... Suddenly, she knew that she was very different from the hunter and that other wolfhound next door. She could recall something that they could not. Being a creature on two legs. Talking using those strange mouth noises. Showing kindness and love and laughter, instead of ordering threats and hurting. And the hunter was like that too, deep inside, and so was the wolfhound. They weren't wolves; they were... human. The pup ran this thought again through her animal mind. Human. They were human.

That meant something, didn't it?

_Thump! Thump! Thump......_

A sudden _thunk_, and the wolfhound's actions ceased. Complete silence filled the basement for the first time since the transformation. The pup raised her head curiously and exchanged glances with the wolf. In turn, hunter barked once, twice, three times. He waited for a response. Nothing.

The hunter shook his head and dismissed it with an uncaring turn of his head. He didn't need help from a mutt anyhow. 

In the other holding chamber, the wolfhound lay motionless on the concrete. She did not stir again until morning's light.

***

"Mary? Mary...?" Reverend Grisham called out in his sleep. He raised his hands and unconsciously grabbed at the air as if reaching for something. "Mary??"

"Kevin?" Janet rolled over to face him on the bed, concerned. 

Her husband was flailing at the sheets, his voice growing frantic. "I'm here! I'm coming!" 

She shook his shoulders roughly. "Kevin, wake up!"

The Reverend Grisham's eyes snapped open, and he sat up in bed. Where were they?? This place didn't look like his home! But then he remembered. He and his wife weren't at their old home in Havenshire. They were in Brighton, living with his sister. Yes, he left his old position back in Havenshire and was here on sabbatical.

And tonight was the one month anniversary of their daughter's death.

Kevin couldn't believe it. That she could be dead for so long. Sometimes, the fact was frighteningly real to him, like at the funeral, when his family dropped roses onto the casket that was lowered into the ground. The casket that contained no body. 

Yet other times, her death would only be a bad dream. He would wake up some mornings and think, "Mary has to get ready for school..." and get out of bed to go to her room. Yet as soon as he stepped out of the hall, he would be confused. Where was his daughter's room? It was only then he would remember that Mary didn't have a room anymore. 

Still sometimes he would be talking with someone and mention offhand, "My daughter Mary used to love doing this," or "Mary has been gone for awhile, maybe I should ring up Suzy's..." and then he would stop in mid-sentence, remembering where he was and why. The truth would hit him with such an impact that his voice would die in his throat, only managing a weak, "Excuse me," before leaving immediately.

Reverend Grisham reached out toward the nightstand for his glasses. Putting them on, he then put his fingers to his temples and leaned his elbows on his knees. "I... I saw her again," he whispered. 

Janet snuggled next to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I saw her too."

The Reverend absentmindedly stroked her hair as he stared into the dark. Janet always agreed with him, didn't she? "I saw her too." "I know how you feel." "Mary's not coming back, dear; yes, I know that..." But, really, how much did she know? She had cried; oh yes, she had cried, but did she really _grieve_? Could she possibly comprehend what he was feeling? Even now, with her warm body so close by, he felt cut off - even alienated - from his own wife. She couldn't understand what he was feeling. Every time death had come, she wasn't there. She had never seen blood like he had, or felt that painful helplessness. She had never heard her daughter scream like he had, or that woman's desperate attempt at redemption two years before. 

Kevin suddenly felt a sharp pang of rage toward his wife,- a feeling that possessed him so often now - anger for making him feel so alone with his emotions. _You weren't there; you don't know!_ He wanted to jerk away from her, maybe even hit her. However, that bitterness died the very instant it sprang, and he hugged his wife tightly as if repenting that horrid thought. Kissing her, he felt the tears on her face. Yes, once again he forgave her for not being there. 

"It was... it was dark.... She- she was yelling out for me," Kevin Grisham whispered. He held onto Janet with a blind man's tenderness. "There were shadows out to get her. Wolves, I think... oh, I don't know!" He let his hands drop. "Calling out. 'Papa....' " Kevin brushed a hand across his eyes and leaned back against the headboard.

Janet nodded. "She wanted me. She needed my help," she added in hush tones. "And I tried to reach her, Kevin, I know I did.... We were climbing mountains. Between her and us..."

In grave unison they ended, "And I couldn't reach her."

Both exchanged glances and were quiet. Without Mary, their world was reduced to silence. 

"My little lamb...." From their bedside window, the full moon glowed. Reverend Grisham shuddered. That moon. Curse that moon.

"It was just a dream," Janet said, hugging her husband close. "Just a dream."

"Mary's watching over us now," Reverend Grisham added in justification. "She's with God now." He had to believe that. He had to shake off the overwhelming feeling in his soul that she was still in this world. She is not here, she is gone, and she is happy wherever she is now.

He had to believe this.

There were no hidden wolves in the darkness. There were no wolves after his daughter. His daughter was dead.

They laid back down on the bed, arms wrapped around each other in comfort.

_Just a dream,_ he consoled himself. _It was only just a dream...._

Chapter 18

Lupin didn't know when the wolf in him fell asleep, but the next thing he was aware of was the sharp sunlight hitting his eyes. He shaded his face and saw that the rusty red brick walls of the holding chamber were clearly defined in the morning's rays. The night was over. The hunter was dormant inside him once more.

And with the day came the numerous afflictions he suffered monthly. His back hurt. His shoulders ached. He could feel a crick in his neck. No wonder, since he passed the night on a concrete floor. Lupin sat up onto his knees and ran a hand through his hair. A nauseating feeling overcame him, but, a result from long years of practice, Lupin restrained himself from vomiting. With the exception of last month, he never usually vomited much after the full moon. If he ever did, it was only excess phlegm and digestive acid, like something heaved up when one was sick with stomach flu. 

He noticed that someone was snuggled up beside him. Mary. Her eyes were closed, and a bit of her golden hair covered her face. Her chest rose in fell in a steady rhythm with his.

Lupin sat there for a few moments, as if absorbing the little bit of childlike splendor. He always liked to watch her when she was sleeping; it was a habit he couldn't get himself out of. An angel she looked like, a sweet little angel.... He placed a hand on her shoulder and carefully roused her.

"Wake up," he said. "It's morning."

Mary's eyelids fluttered open. She turned onto her side. Eyes reeling back toward her head, Mary made a weak, moaning sound and clutched her middle. Using quick thinking, Lupin quickly hoisted Mary up at an angle and turned her away from him as her head jerked forward, spewing out a long stream of vomit. His immediate action prevented the both of them from getting soiled. 

She floundered in his arms, muttering to herself. "Papa... Papa... the wolves..." she croaked in a raspy voice, her lips stained with spit and grime. 

"Hush, hush, my girl." Lupin turned the girl in an about-face and wiped her mouth with the edge of his robe. He shuffled themselves away from the mess on the floor, making a mental note to have that cleaned later. 

"Papa... pap-" Coughing abruptly, she cut off her words. Lupin put the robe sleeve over her mouth to catch any spittle and rubbed her back in a circular motion. It was an action he vaguely remembered his mother doing. Mary coughed a few more times, then leaned against his chest, pacified.

Lupin sighed, stroking the girl's head with his free hand as she lay by his side. Bunching up the soiled part of the sleeve, he wiped her sweaty brow with a clean bit. She had her eyes closed again, and her face was pale and sickly, with hollow circles under the eyes. Surely he must appear the same way as well. Transformation was always an exhausting process.

After awhile, the girl revived herself again. Raising her head from his robes, she easily freed herself from his embrace and stretched out her arms. Yawning as if just waking up from a nap, Mary turned away from him and discovered the presence of the lukewarm, foul-smelling vomit pooling on the ground. 

"Did I-? Oh, sorry," she said hoarsely, her face flushing with embarrassment.

"That's no problem." Lupin brushed the child's cheek and gently steered her away from the sight.

Mary nodded and stared down at her hands. An almost eerily calm attitude possessed the child. She then raised her porcelain face to the bright light through the window, the sun's rays outlining the iron bars. Her eyes then traveled around the room, as if she was seeing the it for the first time. The massive walls, the hard floor, the cold basement air.... She sighed as if mourning something deep inside her.

Lupin wished, as he did so often, that he knew what the girl was thinking.

"I had a bad dream last night," she whispered.

He asked softly, "What was it?"

"I was a wolf, and you were a wolf too, Remmy. We were locked up in a tiny room with brick walls. We couldn't get out." Mary's voice came out monotone, and Lupin looked at her in concern. "You and another wolf... I didn't know where the other one was... Well, you both wanted to escape. It was scary. You were roaring and growling and the room shook and you wanted to leave and you got mad really fast and you acted terrible at everything and started tearing down the walls-" Mary halted when she stared at the wall in front of them. Several long, deep scratches were there, made by preternatural animal claws.

Lupin bit his lower lip. "I-I did this?" he asked. The memory of being a wolf was never clear to him. Just a bunch of sensations all jumbled up in a mess. The most distinct memory he ever had in wolf form was when he made Mary, and even that was vague.

"It was a nightmare," Mary said resolutely. "It didn't happen."

"No, Mary. It was real." He wasn't going to let Mary deceive herself. If she started rationalizing like this, he knew that she would never stop. "It did happen. You were a wolf, just like we talked about."

"No, I wasn't!" Mary looked at him with large blue eyes. "I was only scared that I would because you said. But it didn't... I mean, it wasn't true. Only a nightmare."

"Mary..." Lupin put a hand on each shoulder and held her away from him. "Don't do this to yourself.... Please..."

Her gaze traveled warily, not focusing on him. "I tried to stop you and you wanted to hurt me..." she said in a quivering voice.

Lupin was stunned. "I did?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry. I don't remember... I maybe did something wrong..."

"No. It was my fault. I wasn't myself, you know that." He gathered her up in his arms again and stroked her downy hair. "My fault, Mary. You did well. You did well." 

The steel door creaked open. Claire slumped against the door, a hand to her head. Her usual attire of loose gray robes were wrinkled and slightly dirty from the basement floor. Long lengths of black hair fell out of its usual neat braid, trailing down her waist in a tangled mess. Dark circles were under her eyes and the beginnings of a bruise formed on half her face. Yet she smiled at them with half-closed eyes. "So, 'ow was your night?" she asked lightly.

"Claire-" Lupin started, but Madame raised a hand to cut him off.

"I'm fine," she said shortly. "My wolf form 'as a disability." She turned away. "I already 'ave food on ze table if you want it."

She quickly left, but Lupin slipped from the room to catch up with her, Mary trailing behind. He stopped her at the top of the stairs.

"Wolves don't do this," he said. He put a hand to Claire shoulder and she winced and recoiled. 

"It was my wolf form," she hissed with the pain. Leaving the basement, she stepping into the kitchen. Lupin noticed that she was limping heavily.

"Wolves don't hurt themselves!" he fired accusingly.

Claire whirled to face him. "I didn't do it intentionally!" she snapped angrily. "I can't 'elp it! My wolf is a-" She stopped herself. "I better straighten myself up," she said instead, heading to her room. 

He felt embarrassed at coming to anger so swiftly. "Please," Lupin put a hand on her arm. "Let me."

Claire gave a short laugh. "Wiz zat wand of yours? Remus, you've done too much. I might grow to depend on you." She rejected his touch and moved on.

Lupin shook his head, frustrated that her stubbornness was rising up again. But of course, he could be stubborn too if he wanted to. 

"If this is what you go through every month..."

Seeing Mary watching them, she tried to lighten the situation a bit. "Kind of like ze menstrual cycle, is it not?" A roll of the eyes, like she was dismissing something minuscule, then she headed off again. 

But Lupin blocked her way. "Then right now you're going through PMS," he quipped in return. "You don't mean what you say. Emotional unbalances."

"I don't believe you would like to see a female werewolf go zroo PMS."

"Well, I can't really tell the difference otherwise."

She cracked a smile. "Rather I'd like be alone, zen, to 'elp myself and my problems, hmmm?"

"Self-mutilation does not count as a symptom of any feminine syndrome I am aware of," he said, steering them neatly to the subject at hand.

Mary, in the meantime, had her eyes on Claire the entire time. "Madame de Chien-Loup," she said hesitantly. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" Her mother words echoed in her head again, about never letting others hurt themselves. Looking from Lupin to Claire and back again, she asked, "Why do people do this? Hurt themselves?"

Claire sighed and slumped her shoulders, defeated. "I don't mean to 'urt myself," she explained warily. "My wolf form 'as a disability. I was born wiz mental retardation in ze wolf." She looked away from both of them, suddenly ashamed. "So I can't take back what my wolf chooses to do every full moon. My wolf repeatedly rams 'erself at ze walls; it is a instinctive reaction gone wrong."

She put a hand on Mary's head; it was too painful to kneel down to her height. "It's not anyone's fault zat zis 'appens," she whispered. "It is 'ereditary. Common in many old werewolf clans."

"But why?"

A simple question. But Claire did not know how know how to respond.

Lupin covered for her. "Magical build-up," he said. "Humans were not evolved to take magic into their systems, so when the dominant ancestor of Claire's clan was created, his disability in handling the magic inside him lead him to pass this characteristic on to his children."

Claire took over, with a grateful look to Lupin. "And zis characteristic mutated over time, creating werewolf disabilities zat only show during ze transformation. It's all genetics." A thoughtful look passed over her face when she said this. "I 'ave LOCD," she added lowly. "Lycanthropic Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder."

"Really?" Mary tried pronouncing the name to herself. "Lycanthro-ick Obsessive Com-pillsive... How is it passed on again?" she asked. "Through families?"

"Like if your parents both had certain quality, like blue eyes, the chances of them having a daughter with blue eyes are greater than her having brown ones," Lupin added, simplifying the concept for her. "It works for a number of traits you have, including magical ones."

"So the wolf did it?" Mary hesitantly inquired to Claire. 

She nodded. "But I'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"But maybe Remmy should look at it anyway," the girl suggested. "He can fix anything."

Claire gave in half-willingly. "I guess I should," she said in a sudden uncomfortable tone. "Remus is becoming quite ze doctor now for me, isn't 'e?" To him she asked, "Could you 'elp me to my room?" 

"If you want to." Lupin looped his arm around hers and aided her down the hall. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Mary give him the strangest expression. She had a content expression on her face, but giggled behind her hand with some unknown glee. He had no idea what that meant. 

After going to retrieve his briefcase, they headed to Claire's room upstairs on the second floor. The interior retained its original spartan decor, like all the other rooms in the building. Claire sat down on the bed and propped her leg up. "Ze injuries are along my side and my 'ip," Claire explained uneasily. "I'll, um, 'ave to, uh..." Her cheeks flushed in a pale pink.

"_Oh_." Lupin suddenly became aware of why she acted so defensively before. They turned their faces away from each other in an awkward moment.

"I-I won't look," he compromised, feeling like a bumbling adolescent as he said so. 

While Claire made herself presentable, Lupin paid attention to the things around the room. A small dresser was by the bedside, with dozens of little framed photos. Many were of her fellow clan members, immediate and extended. Lupin examined the pictures. They were Muggle-created, which meant that they didn't move. However, that did not deny the happiness on those faces behind the glass. Quite a few of the photos were shots of Claire with a large-built, pale-faced man wearing dark-tinted glasses. 

"Um, who's he?" Lupin inquired, trying to keep his voice casual.

Claire checked to see that she wasn't peered at and answered, " 'Im? My brother Bernard. Currently, 'e is a researcher in Nice."

For some reason, Lupin felt relieved at this answer. "In what field?"

"Lycanthrope genealogy."

"Oh." He groped about for another question to ask. "Is, um, your entire family in France?"

"Non. Most run ozzar Safehouses across Europe. Our family business." 

"I don't see many newcomers though."

"When ze program started, ze 'ouses were overfilled. Ze war wiz You-Know-Who 'ad recently ended a few years beforehand and much ill-feeling was still between wizards and certain non-wizard part-'uman creatures. Werewolves, vampires, and ze like. Some werewolf clans 'ad sided wiz ze Dark Lord and so zis 'atred carried to our entire species. Many lynchings and burnings were 'appening." 

Lupin heard Claire sigh. "Zat's why ze Safehouses were created. As a defense against werewolf discrimination."

"Of course." Lupin had heard of the occasional incident in highly antagonistic places like Northern Russia and Eastern Europe, where the villages were small and very prejudice. Also, the defunct pro-wizard group (often called supremacist in certain circles,) People Against Werewolf Societies was rumored for being in charge of these attacks, even though no direct evidence was ever found. P.A.W.S. was a dead organization, officially declared illegal and dismantled by the Registry when the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard, Part-Human Creatures was implemented in 1948. Yet their possible existence had always kept Lupin on his toes while traveling.

"P.A.W.S. is still 'active' in some places. People always fear and despise, no matter 'ow much time passes." A rustle of pulled bed sheets were heard and Claire said shortly, "Go ahead."

Lupin looked out of the corner of his eye and saw that Claire was facing the wall on her side. She was in her underclothes with a blanket covering her modestly. Her hair, undone from its braid, trailed down her back. The back of her ears were burning red and she snapped, "Make it quick."

He gave a nod, even though she wouldn't be able to see that. Trying to retain as much dignity as possible, he lifted the blanket discreetly. 

Along the curve of her hip and trailing up along her back was the dark, nasty-looking bruise, already black and blue. Hopefully, none of the bones were injured as well. 

"This... this is bad," he murmured to her, trying hard to keep his eye focused on the injury. "I'm not a professional here, but this could lead to definite problems. If this keeps happening every month, Claire, you could be dislocating your pelvic bone or even throwing your spine out of shape. This could cripple you for life..."

"I know zat," she replied softly. "But it can't be 'elped."

"What if you employed an assistant who isn't a werewolf?  Or make the wolfbane potion? At least someone has to strap you down during the transformation so you won't-"

"I don't need assistants." Claire gave a brief look over her shoulder, calmed by the fact that he wasn't acting imprudent in this situation. Her bull-headed pride showed through her defensive tone. "And 'ow many people do you know who would make ze potion for me and not charge crazy? Zey gyp werewolves all ze time. I don't trust many people, Remus, and 'ave ran zis Safehouse by myself ever since it began. I 'ave not needed a single 'and to assist me either."

"Except me," he pointed out.

"Oh," she paused, deflating a bit. "Yes, except you."

"But I can't help you with this, even if I stayed-"

"Even if you stayed?" Claire repeated. "You and Mary are planning to leave?" she inquired in a small voice.

"I was only thinking about winter lodging here. Afterwards, perhaps we'll rent an apartment if I have the money. I apologize for not telling you before-"

"It is all right, Remus," she replied quickly. "I should 'ave known." She quickly grew silent. 

Lupin bit his lip, wondering about the lengths of discrepancy and gingerly touched the area with the tips of his fingers. Claire flinched and inhaled sharply. "What are you doing?"

"I'm checking if you injured your hip bone." He pressed carefully into a certain spot and asked, "Does this-"

"Yes! It 'urts!" Claire yelped immediately. 

Lupin drew back. "Okay, sorry, sorry!"

Claire crossed her arms self-consciously. "Any ideas?"

"Well, I have, um..." Why did he have trouble talking now?? "I have some ointment that I use. Quite convenient for minor things. Would you like me to..?"

"If you must."

Taking out a small jar from the briefcase, he offered it to Madame. She reached over to get it and the blanket slipped.

"Oh!" Claire wrapped the cloth around her again and snatched the jar. She cleared her throat. "Um,_ merci_," she said.

"Your welcome," Lupin said quickly. He got up. "You can give that back to me later," he said. 

"_Oui_," Claire agreed.

"And, uh, you should rest-"

"I will."

The two stared at each other for a moment at a loss for words. 

"I'll just be going then," Lupin ended briskly, picking up his case and snapping it shut. 

She nodded. "If you need anything, just..."

"Take care of it myself?"

"Uh, _oui_, if you don't object."

Lupin had his hand on the doorknob. "Well, uh, see you."

"You too."

Lupin opened the door to see Mary tumble onto the hall floor. Shutting it behind him, he questioned sternly, "Have you been eavesdropping?"

"Just a little." Mary gave that strange smile again, very wide and giddy. "Claire and Remmy, sitting in a tree-"

"Ridiculous. What gave you that idea??" Lupin brushed past her to the kitchen. "I'm famished, so let's just eat, okay?"

"Whatever." But Mary wouldn't stop looking at him that way, not even when Madame de Chien-Loup came for dinner later and they both acted like nothing had happened. 

Chapter 19

That night the bell at the gate rung. Lupin and Mary were in a large room with a fireplace that served as the common room, playing with a set of cards. They had no magical games in their possession and used a Muggle set of cards. Mary was in the middle of explaining "Old Maid" when they saw Claire emerging from her office. 

The bell rang again. Lupin raised his head in the direction of the doorway. Never before had the bell rung to receive another guest. 

Mary slid from one of the tall, straight-backed oak chairs and came to the doorway to peer around the corner. Lupin remained in his seat, but after a few moments rose also to look behind her. "See anything?" he asked.

"Yeah, an old guy," she replied. "But I can't hear what they're saying." 

Taking a look himself, he saw Claire step into the foyer with another person. Bushy white hair covered his head and a small bristle mustache hung over his lips. He walked slowly but surely; a stoop hindered his step. Madame seemed to know him quite well, and the two were talking rapidly in a friendly manner.

"Are ze Freedom 'Ounds coming zis year?" Claire was inquiring as they walked down the hall. Lupin and Mary ducked back into the room as soon as they came into view, taking their places by the table.

"Bumped into them bridge-bummin'," the man said in a rough voice that lingered of a lost accent. "They'll be comin' in soon enough. Am I the first here?"

"A 'arbinger of ze winter session," Claire added, "Unless you count zese two. Zey came about a month ago."

Upon entering the room, Claire introduced her companion.

"M'sieur Jarohnen is a regular," she said, introducing the three. "Jarohnen, zis is, um, John and Elizabeth Gardiner." Lupin noted how she used their Muggle world aliases.

He squinted at the two as if he had vision problems. His eyes were something that caught Lupin's attention, not only for their critical look, but also for their physical appearance. They were a sharp blue flecked with black - almost like shattered windowpanes - making his stare sharp and calculating. 

Lupin made the first move. "Just came here two weeks ago," he said in his most friendly tone, his voice taking on a Yorkshire accent. He offered his hand to the old man. "These places are modern miracles, aren't they? Usually my girl and I spend our time up north in the countryside where there are no Muggles about."

Mary held his other hand in hers and was staring at the floor. Lupin had explained to her before how they needed to "play pretend" with strangers, yet she never liked it when they had to use their false identities.

"Pretty girl you have there," Jarohnen said, still going over them with that vicious stare. He did not make a move to take Lupin's hand and Lupin took his arm back.

"A little angel," Lupin agreed. "Lizzie, say hello to Jarohnen."

Mary continued to stare at the floor. She was obviously not in the mood to participate. 

Lupin frowned in disapproval. "She just gets a little shy around strangers," he said, giving a slight shrug.

Jarohnen the turned to address Claire. "You're both lyin' to me, but I'll forgive ya." 

Claire turned her head and brushed a wisp of hair that had fallen over her eyes. Lupin faltered, but quickly recovered. "Well, I have no idea what you mean," he went on in that same tone. "Is this how you welcome everyone you meet?"

"I tell the truth and expect it to be two-way," he replied, still facing the Frenchwoman. "But as I said, I'll forgive ya." 

"Forgive me for what?" Claire rebounded innocently. "Jarohnen, you 'ave spent far too many summers alone. You're getting too paranoid."

"I'm old, not paranoid." Jarohnen tapped Claire on the nose as if she was just a child. "Look at me straight in the eye next time ya lie; maybe then I'll believe ya."

"Jaroh-" Claire started again, but he cut her off to speak with Lupin.

"You be Remus Lupin, if I'm not mistaken, right?"

A fleeting moment of pure panic swept over him, yet he still managed to retain his composure. _Look him in the eye, don't panic, speak softly,_ he coached himself. Again, Lupin gave a light chuckle and shook his head. "Believe what you want," he humored, still a bit uneasy. "I won't tell you otherwise."

"Good. We're in agreement then?" Jarohnen grinned. He was missing his two front teeth. "Johnny-boy, when you lived out in the streets for forty years, ya learn stuff. Really, hope ya don't mind my attitude. If I was twenty years younger, ya woulda fooled me. But Mother always said I was an eagle-eyed jackass." He finally received Lupin's hand. "The old Ianikit clan of Eastern Russia," he said calmly. Lupin found that the other man's grip was firm, almost tense. The touch was brief, and with Jarohnen immediately letting go and stuffing his callused hands into the pockets of his ratty old trench coat.

Ianikit. A very familiar name in the werewolf community. During the threat of Grindelwald, it was rumored that Ianikit clan members served as agents for the dark Wizard. When word leaked out to the public, the initial wave of hostility was geared toward the entire werewolf community. In a murderous rampage, a wizard mob destroyed the Ianikit clan house in St. Petersburg (Muggles called it Leningrad back then, in reverence to some other important dignitary) and went on a wolf-hunt for all its members. Two-thirds of the entire clan was massacred within a week. Only then did Ministry officials proclaim the rumors to be false and put a stop to the violence.

Jarohnen's past was vestige of prestige. That was well over fifty years ago; was he the last member of his clan? If so, then being the sole survivor of his clan meant that he was now classified as a loner by the Registry of Magical Creatures. He cannot have a family of his own, and when he dies, his lineage would die with him. This werewolf was on par with Lupin, if not more so because both were the last of their family. 

"Well, 'Johnny-boy,' ya got that wand too, doncha?" Jarohnen Ianikit said. "The wizardin' werewolf of England." 

"Well-" Lupin started, uncomfortable now that the old man had seen through his act. 

Jarohnen gave a friendly shrug and replied, "Idle curiosity, my comrade. Never saw anyone before with a wand who wasn't a bastard."

Claire gave in before Lupin did. "I couldn't never fool you, could I?" she said. She relaxed now that she didn't have to fool anyone. Really, Claire would never learn how to manipulate.

"Ya golden to a fault," was all he said. "Would have snooped through ya rooms later if ya didn't stop spreadin' the dirt." He gave a polite tip of his head, freely acknowledging the truth. "The wand?"

Lupin shook his head, dropping the game. Out of respect, he took the wand out from within his robes. Jarohnen grabbed at it with quick hands and examined it closely. He chuckled with self-content.

"Now _this_," he proclaimed to Claire, shaking the wand in his clenched fist, "this is the power I was tellin' ya about, comrade. Ya can't hide yaself behind Muggle ingenuity and expect _that_ to shield ya from wizards. Ya must fight magic with magic!" He tossed the wand back to Lupin. "Ya smart 'un," Jarohnen commented. "And a lucky 'un too. If the Ministry only allowed _all_ of us to have a shot at this-"

"Never mind zat talk," Claire cut in quickly. "You want me to show you to your room?"

"Same bunk for the last ten years." The old man sighed and smiled again. "Comrade, ya always put a shushin' to my rantin'..."

"Because your ranting needs to be shushed." Claire put an arm around Ianikit's shoulder. 

Jarohnen put a hand over hers. "At least we can pray for the saints like ya to protect us from this damned world."

"You flatter," Claire said, leaving the room to head upstairs.

When they were gone, Mary finally spoke. "He said the B-word and the D-word," she proclaimed in a hushed voice, eyes wide. 

"Yes, I know he did," Lupin replied.

"And he acted funny. In a weird, creepy way." 

"Especially," he agreed. "So I don't want you to talk to associate him in any way."

"Why?"

"Because he's the type who saw too much in his life."

Mary paused for a moment. "You mean he knew you were pretending?"

"The whole time," Lupin answered. "He could be a very dangerous man." A worried look crossed the girl's face. Lupin quickly changed the subject. "But never mind him. Now let's just continue our game..."

***

Jarohnen Ianikit did prove to be the harbinger of the winter session. Over the next week loners from all over England came to bunk at the Safehouse. Just in time as well, for a killer snowstorm hit southern England by the end of the week, blanking the world with 31 centimeters of snow. Surely any homeless werewolf in London would rather take a room at the Safehouse than rough it out anywhere else.

Because of the increase in numbers and the recent weather Claire activated stricter rules around the place. Restrictions were placed for leaving the building, with check-out times and two-hour limits. Winter welcomed a lock-up session of the Safehouse that Lupin wasn't familiar with before. Yet no one complained. Maybe the newcomers were more reclusive than he thought. Or perhaps Claire had been lax with the rules when it was only she, he, and Mary.

Most of the werewolves spent their time in the common room, lounging around the fireplace. Most read the numerous books that lined the walls, or started games of chess or cards. Some wrote in thick-volume journals. One thin woman claimed herself to be a freelance writer waiting yet to be published by the wizard press and typed incessantly on her heavy typewriter. An elderly lady knitted thick sweaters that she sold during the fall. Old Jarohnen was ever-constantly pacing the floor before fireplace mantle, talking with other friendly "comrades." 

Those people were the Freedom Hounds, a makeshift pack of homeless werewolves who forsworn the wizard world to live in poverty on the Muggle streets. Supposedly it was an act of nihilistic rebellion, but probably made because they couldn't afford employment in the world they rejected. Lupin saw himself as one of them in the next five years, and wondered if that was a good thing or not.

Mary spent much of her time with the knitter - Lady Winifred she called herself - who taught the girl how to mend socks. Lupin soon became accustomed to sitting with Jarohnen and his circle, despite his initial mistrust of the Russian. His interest was spurred with the small group's political and social discussions, denouncing the "evils of the Registry and the Ministry" and demanding the "denied freedoms of the werewolf public." Most of the time was spent only venting these frustrations. It reminded Lupin of the old fable where the mice argued over who should put the bell on the cat. 

During one heated discussion, Jarohnen stopped his usual pacing and slammed his fist upon the fireplace mantle. "If the Ministry gave us a chance at practicin' magic," he growled. "We would be equals. We know of the wizarding world; we know of magic! There is no excuse."

"According to the Guidelines for the Treatment for Non-Wizard, Part-Human Creatures, no natural-borns can practice magic," said another, a gray, shaggy-looking man named Ulysses. "Not any pure-blooded vampire, giant, werewolf, ghoul, hag, nobody!"

Lupin felt all stares suddenly turn to him. "Ya Dumbledore's special 'un," Jarohnen said. His voice held a twinge of jealousy in it. "Dumbledore persuaded the Ministry to let ya into Hogwarts after ya was bitten. More than we can say for ourselves."

"It's was only an agreement between Dumbledore and my guardian," Lupin said quickly, feeling he had to defend himself. "I had nothing to do with it."

"That's not the point," another man, Toby, piped up. He had reddish hair streaked with golden highlights. Younger than the rest, he looked barely twenty-five. "The fact that our an exception isn't fair. Anyone should be allowed into Hogwarts. We were denied any magical education only because we're naturals. But we're just as human as you." 

"When's the last time anyone's been over the law books too?" pitched in Ulysses. "I heard Claire had the whole set o' books in her office. Don't you remember what it said 'bout breeding rights?"

That Lupin was familiar with. It was the material that he and Claire went over so meticulously, looking for a loophole that wouldn't get him and Mary into trouble with the Ministry. " 'All registered clan members must marry werewolves from other registered clans,' " he recited. " 'Not one member can marry any loner or human. Loners cannot marry. Penalty for such is annulment of marriage and destruction of any offspring.' " 

"Nice one, Remus," Jarohnen complimented. "Figured ya might have a reason to keep your eyes on the books." He looked at Mary. She was sitting in the corner trying to untangle a mass of yarn from her knitting needles. In a casual voice, he asked, "What about accidental bites? Find a way out of that 'un?"

Lupin stared at him. "What about accidental bites?"

Jarohnen raised his hands. "Idle curiosity there." Lupin noticed it was one of the man's catch phrases. "Not like that affects ya or anythin'." 

When Lupin wouldn't answer, Jarohnen quoted for him in a precise voice, like he was reciting from the Bible. " 'All accidental bites must be reported immediately to the Registry of Magical Creatures. If victim is a wizard and is cursed as result of bite, they may seek compensation and help programs through the Registry. If the victim is a Muggle, the victim must be eliminated and all evidence covered up from the Muggle world through the actions of the Department of Mysteries.'

" 'Any werewolf who commits the bite may have the right of trial in front of the Council of Magical Law, with punishment to be decided upon by the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. However, all direct attacks upon Muggles result in capital punishment issued by the Committee.' "

The group fell silent. They all knew, Lupin realized. Claire figured it out with a day, how long did it take them? He and Mary kept up their pretend games, yet what kind of alibi did he have anyhow, with her about and that Havenshire incident still in the air? He wouldn't be surprised if the whole community found this out. 

Yet he was sure that no one would say a word to the Ministry. Was it because they respected the skills he had? He was one of the best the werewolves had to offer. Others were bitten before him, and yet he was bitten young enough to be considered a natural himself. A werewolf who was able to learn magic under one of Europe's greatest wizarding schools. A werewolf who beat the system. And these natural werewolves would do anything to protect their wizard. 

"Know your books as well, Jarohnen?" Lupin said in his most steady voice.

"Have to know what little rights ya have," he replied, staring into the fire, "lest the Ministry take 'em all away behind your back."

Chapter 20

_Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz............._ The high, electronic noise interrupted the silence of the darkened room.

"Ugh...." Claire turned over on her other side, then immediately recoiled as she put weight on her sore hip. Throwing off the covers to her bed, she lifted her head to view the bedside clock. 3:57 in the morning. Who would be outside at this time of night?

_Buzzzzzzzzzzzz....._ By her door the intercom droned on, its panel flashing red. She had the system installed in her office and her bedroom, to go off if anyone was at the gate. Yet except for a few emergencies, no one ever knocked at the Safehouse in the wee hours of the morning. 

Getting out of bed, she pulled a thick robe over her nightclothes and checked her window. The window looked down over the front of the house and the street. Four figures waited in the snow by the iron gate. Because of the early hour, the sky was still dark. Yet few yards away the streetlight shone on the Ministry vehicle parked by the curb. Navy blue and red. Official colors of the Registry of Magical Creatures.

Claire felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of the car. No, they couldn't be here! They couldn't! Should she go out to meet them? Should she ignore them? 

_Buzzzzzzzzz............_

No, she couldn't ignore such authority. Claire shook her head and opened the door to the quiet hallway. The doors were closed and locked, the hall empty. Her tenants were still asleep.

Her step was heavy, and she limped, still suffering from her injuries inflicted during the full moon. As carefully as she could, Madame crept down the stairs to the front door. Meticulously, she undid each of the locks that along the door, each one making a swift _click_ sound as it was unlatched. Putting on some slippers in the foyer, she checked behind her cautiously.

It was then she noticed that the kitchen light was on.

"They've finally come, have they?"

Claire jumped as a figure graced the doorway.

Jarohnen leaned against the open door, arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing the Muggle clothes he always wore: thick-soled tan boots with that stained trench coat over brown pants and a flannel shirt. 

"Don't do zat!" Claire snapped, secretly relieved that it was only him.

Upstairs, the stifled sound of the intercom continued.

_Buzzzzzzzzzzzz.........._

"Damn 'em," he said tersely. "Let 'em wait."

"You know I can't."

"Then take this." From the hidden pockets of his coat, Jarohnen took out a steel object. He flicked a button on it, and a six-inch steel blade popped up from its head. "For your safety, comrade." Another push of the button and the knife disappeared back into its handle. Offering the switchblade to Claire, he added, "Do you have a good spot for 'em to hide?"

She received the weapon and concealed it within her robes. "Attic," Claire whispered, fully aware about who Jarohnen referred to. "Zair's a truck up wiz seven locks. I 'ave ze keys in my office..."

Jarohnen understood. "I'll spot ya from here," he said. "Now go."

Claire nodded and opened the door. A night wind blew cold air into the building, and she rushed outside, leaving the door ajar.

The officers waited with seemingly everlasting patience as Claire made her way through the snowy walkway toward them. She got the impression that the four of them were molded from the same cast, they looked so much alike. They were dressed in navy blue robes with a thick red band across the left sleeve. Matching fleece-lined headgear that resembled hunting hats covered their heads. Their boots reflected the faint streetlight. At the gate, Claire asked in her most impersonal tone, "May I 'elp you wiz anything, messieurs?"

With the same impartial attitude, the man to her farthest left addressed her. "Hello, ma'am. I'm Detective Agent Parsons and this is Agent Burk, Agent Fleming, and Agent Williams. We're here from the Registry of Magical Creatures." All showed their identification in the same quick motion, concealing them again as soon as the badges showed. "May we speak with you inside, please?"

***

"Wake up!"

Someone's voice shouted and Lupin found himself being shoved out of his bed and onto the floor. Lupin fell, startled, and grasped the side of the stowaway bed with one hand. Taking out his wand, he flourished it at the intruder. "Stay back!"

"Whoa, whoa, hold it there!" A hand-held lantern was uncovered, giving out a weak light, revealing the bearded man. "S'only me, Ulysses."

"Ulysses...?" Lupin sat down on his bed and reached across to the one next to him. Touching Mary's sleeping shoulder, he felt a flood of relief. She was safe. "Why are you here?"

The man's black eyes sparkled in the light. "The RMC officers are outside," he whispered. "Jaroh told me to send you two to the attic 'fore they come checkin' the rooms." He gestured with his head toward the girl. "Wake her up and let's go."

***

Claire sat down in one of the common room's oak chairs. None of the officers took a seat themselves and preferred to stand before her, like it was an interrogation. All were clean-shaven and about the same height and build, with dark hair sticking out from under their fleece caps. In fact, she couldn't differentiate between the any of them at all. 

"You may or may not be aware that there was a werewolf attack last month in Havenshire," Parsons began. "One Muggle was killed. A young girl by the name of Mary Grisham."

"Yes, I am aware," Claire replied. "But what does zat have to do wiz me?"

"The Department of Mysteries has been investigating this and a new piece of information has turned up," said another officer. Claire couldn't tell whether he was Agent Burks, Fleming, or Williams. "They found direct evidence that a werewolf named Remus Lupin committed the crime. Sources say that he disappeared into the Muggle world after resigning from his teaching job at Hogwarts last June."

"Well, I don't know anyone 'ere by zat name," Claire said immediately. "And zis gives you no excuse to come barging in during ze middle of ze night and disturbing my tenants. What about our agreement? Why didn't you call instead?" 

"The Registry donates over 200 Galleons annually to your program, ma'am," Agent Burk or Fleming or Williams answered sternly. "I believe that we have a right to know how you run this place."

"Are you saying zat I'm a crook?" Claire snapped, affronted. "Zat I just let anyone in 'ere?" One of the officers walked out of the room. Claire jumped up from her seat. "And where do you think you're going??"

A third officer clamped a hand around Claire's arm. "We're only doing our job."

Madame jerked away from his hold. "I'm telling you, Remus is not 'ere!" 

"Ma'am, this is for us to confirm for ourselves. If you keep this attitude up," he added darkly, "I'm afraid we'll have to arrest you." 

The officer who left the room slammed on the nearest door with a gloved fist, yelling, "Registry of Magical Creatures. Open up!" 

After a few moments, the door opened and Lady Winifred looked out. "Excuse me, but what's going on...?" she said in her soft voice. 

"If you would be kind enough to step out into the hall, please," he replied. "We have a search to conduct."

"Search, what search...?"

But Lady Winifred's question was left unanswered, as she was moved out into the hall. Madame de Chien-Loup put an arm around the frail woman's shoulders and stood next to her. Lady Winifred inquired, "Claire, dear, what are these men doing?"

"Only a search, Lady, only a search," Claire said in a tight voice, feeling the internal outrage toward these men. How dare they invade her building like this! How dare they wake her people up at this hour, to shove them out of their rooms like this! What ever happened to courtesy and reason - why this time, why so sudden?? Yet she couldn't stop them, and Claire felt completely helpless. 

Another officer joined him at knocking on the doors. Their harsh voices echoed off the walls, working in a disturbingly efficient routine.

_Bam! Bam! Bam!_ "Registry of Magical Creatures! Open up!"

_Bam! Bam! Bam!_ "Registry of Magical Creatures! Open up!"

Even their voices sounded the same.

Within ten minutes all of the werewolves living on the ground floor were herded into the main hall, still sleepy-eyed and dressed in their nightclothes. They murmured among themselves in low, concerned whispers. Claire was asked many times what was happening and she could only answer, "Just a search - it won't take long, I'm sure." Anything else and she feared that one of them might let the presence of Lupin and Mary slip, and get them all into trouble.

Upon finishing the task, Parsons said to two others, "Check upstairs." Wordlessly, the ordered men went up to the second floor, their coal-black boots making loud _clomp-clomp-clomp_ sounds against the wooden stairs. 

Claire silently prayed that Lupin and Mary had enough time to hide. 

***

Up in the attic, Ulysses uncovered the lantern all the way, brightening up the room. Jarohnen was busily sweeping up the thick dust about with a broom, eliminating the tracks they left. "She'll say that she's been cleanin' up here..." he muttered to himself in a reassuring tone. "If they find this place, if they ask questions, she'll say that she's been cleanin'..."

Mary was still on the ladder leading up to the attic. "Come on," Lupin took her hands and pulled her up past the last rung. 

She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Why are we up here, Remmy?" she asked in a sleepy voice.

"It's just another game of pretend," Lupin answered quickly. "We have to play hide and seek for a little while."

"Hide and seek? But I'm tired. I wanna go back to bed."

"You will, Mary. We'll only be hiding for a little bit."

The muffled sound of door knocking was heard from downstairs. "Registry of Magical Creatures! Open up!"

Jarohnen exchanged glances with his fellow Freedom Hound. "They've already started checkin' the rooms," he gasped.

"Hurry then!" Ulysses pushed Lupin and Mary toward an ancient truck. "Do you have them keys, Jaroh?"

"Yeh, yeh." Jarohnen fished out a large metal ring with a dozen of various-sized keys hanging from it. He choose a rather large, old-fashioned one from the bunch and put it into the seventh lock. With a deft twist, he undid it and threw the trunk cover open.

Within the trunk was a set of stone steps leading to an unknown darkness. A smell similar to rotting wood wafted up from the unknown depths. Mary stared, amazed that this truck was more than what it seemed. "It looks scary down there," she murmured.

"Don't worry, we'll have a light." Lupin muttered, "_Lumos_," and the end of his wand lit up like a firefly. He guided the tiny light down the stairwell, revealing more stone steps and stained, wooden walls. "See? It won't be so bad."

"But I wanna go back to bed!" Mary protested. "Why can't we stop pretending all the time?"

"We just have to pretend, all right," Lupin said, trying not to sound snappish. "There are bad people out to get us."

"There are?" 

"Get inside," Ulysses urged. "We can't be all caught up here."

"I'll tell you later." Lupin descended down the first few steps and looked behind him. "Time to be brave, my girl."

Mary still had Lupin's chain around her neck that he gave her a week ago. She wrapped a hand around it as if for protection and nodded. With a moment's hesitation, she came down the steps to him. Lupin took her hand and lead the way, holding up his wand out in front of him. As soon as they descended far enough, Jarohnen shut the door to the trunk and locked it.

Ulysses was already halfway down the ladder. "Get over here!"

Jarohnen darted over to the opening. Grasping the sides of the ladder, he slid down in a way that defied his age. Then both men pushed the ladder back up and swung the trapdoor closed. It had a Camouflage Spell on it, so no one would notice its presence once it was shut. The trapdoor slammed with a dull _thud_, and both cringed. They hoped that the RMC officers haven't heard.

"You there!" a voice barked.

The two Freedom Hounds froze for an instant, then slowly turned around to see the RMC officers at the top of the stairs, pointing their wands straight at them.

***

Upstairs, several loud thumps were heard, along with shouting voices. Claire looked up at the ceiling and wondered what was happening. Finally, one of the officers came down the stairs, escorting Ulysses and Jarohnen. Claire met Ulysses's stare and asked a silent question with her eyes. Ulysses gave a slight nod in answer. Yes, they made it. 

"I found these two in the hall," the officer reported. 

Jarohnen whirled around to face the officer. "Throwin' us against the wall, can be defined as that?? Well, I'm sure that I won't go 'round the halls at night, lest I risk gettin' a concussion from a wizard!"

"That is out of line, wolf," the officer said harshly. 

"What ya did was out of line!" Jarohnen snapped back. But before he could say another word, the officer waved his wand and the old man fell. Thin cables encircled his ankles and wrists. Jarohnen shouted something in Russian. _//Government scum!//_ The officer snapped his wand and Jarohnen found himself gagged as well.

"Anyone else willing to talk back?" the officer said, unfazed at the sight of the struggling, bound werewolf on the floor. No one said a word.

Parsons acted as if the incident never happened. "Anyone else up there?" he asked the officer. 

"Fleming is rounding up the rest."

Parsons nodded. "Very well. Let's begin then."

"Begin what?" Claire asked. "You already know who's present. What more do you need?"

Parsons glared at her. "This is only part of a routine house sweep," was all he said, then sent one of the officers into Lady Winifred's room.

The burly officer stepped over Jarohnen and stormed through her room. Once there, he roughly pulled open drawers and the closet door, throwing the neatly piled sweaters and knitting bags to the floor. The other did the same, storming through the other rooms.

Lady Winifred looked into her room, seeing the destruction as the RMC officer overturned her mattress and knocked in the panel underneath. "What are they looking for?" The elderly woman asked hotly. "I have a quilt I'm working on in there!"

The officer opened up her closet and began shoving out the crocheted shawls and faded dresses. A large bag of scraps lay on the floor, and the officer accidentally dumped it out, scattering the bits of colored rag and cloth all over the floor.

"I just sorted that!" Lady Winifred exclaimed. "Young man, how dare you!" 

"I'll help pick up, Lady, I promise," Claire said apologetically. "You wouldn't 'ave to worry about what zese jerks do." 

After the room seemed thoroughly trashed, the officer left, seeming satisfied. "Nothing here," he called out to the others.

The fourth officer, Agent Fleming, came down the stairs, pushing a line of werewolves before him.

"Did you sweep all the rooms?" Parsons asked him. 

"Yes sir. They're clean."

The second group joined the first, just as confused and bewildered. 

"They destroyed my typewriter!" One of them complained loudly, the promising writer. "The idiot did it purposely! Used his wand to dismantle the whole thing!" She crossed her arms and stared at the busy officers, still going through the rooms. "Hell to house sweeping. This is ransacking!"

"Hush, now," Claire comforted. "It's almost over. I'll reimburse you for ze damage."

It seemed like an eternity they stood waiting, watching the officers going through their things. Dismissing some, destroying others, and overall making a total mess. Some of the tenants gasped as one of the officers held up one bauble or another keepsake and throwing it to the ground. It seemed like they pick and chose what to smash and what to throw, judging upon the owner's reaction. A cruel and monstrous game for the officers. And the werewolves could do nothing in protest, because these were government officials, and werewolves could suffer serious reprimands if they were to assault one of them, in words or actions. Jarohnen was proof of that.

After almost half an hour of pure chaos, the RMC officers declared all the rooms in the Safehouse "clean." Ironically, it was the total opposite. In the common room, books and Muggle game pieces were tossed to the floor and whole shelves were shoved aside to look for any hidden entrances. The sofa was even knifed by Parsons, sending bits of stuffing everywhere. The kitchen was more of the same, with cabinets thrown open and pots and pans strewn about.

The tenants' own rooms were much worse. Clothes and personal items were scattered along the floor. Mattresses were turned over and desks were totally dumped of their contents. More than one werewolf possession lay broken or torn, impossible to repair. The head mistress' own room was the height of their devastation, with even the bed sheets ripped, her closet cleaned out, and her family pictures shoved onto the floor, breaking the glass fronts and sending shards everywhere.

Yet concern over her tenants' belongings was what Madame de Chien-Loup raged over. These werewolves had almost nothing to their name in the first place, why go about destroying what precious little they had? And why did they go to such extents as to practically put the place in shambles? What did that have to do with a manhunt??

"Is zat all?" she asked Parsons in a steely voice. 

The RMC officer turned to the others. "See any other possibilities?" he asked.

_Possibilities to do what?_ Claire thought. _Find hiding places for fugitives or discover chances to wreak something else? _

"Does this building have any other rooms not already searched?"Parsons repeated simply.

At the end of the hall, one door remained closed, untouched in the ravaging. Her office. Claire stared at the Parsons with clear hate in her eyes. He wanted to save her office for last, didn't he? The bastard.

"There appears to be one more left," the officer said in an ignorant voice. 

"Yes, zair is," Claire agreed. The repressed fury in her voice could be cut with a knife. "Ze door is locked, so you might 'ave to ram it down. Zank goodness I'm a cooperative little werewolf who'll open ze door for you instead." Ulysses slipped the key ring furtively into her hand. She marched over to her office and shoved the right key into the lock. With an energetic push, she threw the door open so forcefully that it slammed against the opposite wall. Flipping the light switch on, she gestured grandly with her arms. "Look, 'ere it is!"

One of the officers stepped forward to investigate the room, but Claire stood in the doorway, blocking him. "No sir," she said rudely. "I know exactly what you will do."

"Ma'am-" Parsons warned, but she cut him off and surprised them all with her next move.

"Now, I 'ave observed your methods of sweeping very carefully," she said, stepping into the room. "So I 'ave a pretty good idea 'ow it is done." She walked up to her bookshelves. "See?" she continued. "I 'ave ten years of files and records from every single Safehouse across Europe. Costs of upkeep, tenant lists, owner logs, ze works. All of zem are tediously ordered by date and location. And zis is 'ow you sweep it." 

Madame de Chien-Loup came to the first shelf she saw and began pulling all the files, books, and folders off. Papers flew into the air and books tumbled to the floor. The ground soon became littered with fallen records and dotted with thick volumes. Several sheets were torn in the process and pages from open books were simply crushed. As the destruction continued, the other werewolves gaped in shock. The RMC officers only stared at her with stone faces.

After all of the records were tossed, Claire still didn't stop. "Now you see, Remus Lupin isn't hiding on any of ze shelves," she said slowly, the sarcasm dripping from her words. "Maybe zair's a secret room behind zem. Ohhh... now, zat's a crafty trick!" 

Grabbing hold of the side of one of the shelves, she said, "I'm sure you strong RMC officers could do zis in a more elegant manner, but ze result is ze same." In one hefty push, the shelf tipped forward and collapsed onto the mess of papers. Three more times and all of the shelves were tipped over. Claire put a hand to her chin and observed the blank wall with interest. "What? No secret 'ideaway? What a _shame_!"

Claire turned to the officers and said, "I suppose a wanted felon doesn't want to 'ide behind bookshelves. 'E must be quite picky for a criminal." 

She stomped over to her desk and gasped melodramatically. "But what about ze desk? I mean, no one could fit in ze drawers, but hey, you overturned all of ze tenants' desks, so why not zis one?? After all," she added bitterly, the volume of her voice increasing. "I could 'ave Remus Lupin's phone number somewhere, and surely you could use _zat_!"

Pulling out the drawers, she flipped them over and dumped the contents out with a defiant look in her eyes. She was fully aware that she was completely ruining her office and that it would take days to reorganize. But, Madame reasoned, it would be better for her to destroy her own belongings than to watch helplessly as the RMC officers did it themselves. At least she denied them that pleasure. 

"Oh, and let's not forget ze phone!" She gathered it up, cord and all, jerked the plug off the wall with a sharp tug. "You see, zis is ze only line of outside communication I 'ave," she said, her voice now almost at shouting level. "But of course, you wouldn't care, would you?? Nah, since you donate zose _200 Galleons_ to my program every year, I can always buy a new phone! You know, instead of _wasting_ ze money paying ze food bills, electricity, and gas!" Claire threw the device to the floor. "And just to make sure zis _ordinary_ phone doesn't secretly unlock some sort of _passageway_ or something, I must smash it to bits! Like how one officer smashed up my tenant's typewriter, which I must also to pay for wiz your 200 Galleons, by ze way." Claire picked up the phone and dropped it repetitively until the backing broke and all of the wires stuck out haphazardly. 

"Last, but certainly not least, is zis computer I 'ave." Madame went over to the monitor and leaned an elbow on it. "Muggle technology. I know 'ow all you wizards don't understand it, even scorn it. So, despite ze fact zat it 'as _nothing_ to do wiz searching for Remus Lupin, I'm sure you'll just destroy it anyway because you despise all Muggle things." Claire knocked the monitor over, along with the hard drive. Both items smashed on the ground. "I can't afford to buy a new one, since I'll 'ave to use your precious 200 Galleons in fixing zis place up! But _c'est la vie!!_" Claire shrugged exaggeratedly, throwing her arms up into the air. "And zat, dear, dear, Detective Agent Parsons," she ended dramatically, "is 'ow you sweep a room!" She stood, arms upraised, breathing heavily, with a formidable look in her eyes. 

_I dare you,_ she seemed to be saying. _I dare you to react. I dare you to arrest me._

And everyone stood motionless, waiting for the officers to react. Waiting for Madame de Chien-Loup to be arrested.

For a second, Parsons retained that bored expression he possessed throughout the entire escapade, but then he snapped back to life. "Well, well," he said calmly. "I see I don't have to send one of my officers to sweep this room. Wonderful job, ma'am. You have my compliments."

"I'm _so_ glad I earned your respect, officer," Madame de Chien-Loup spat.

Agent Parsons waved a hand toward his fellow men. "I think this place is clean. Thank you for your cooperation, everyone." He waved his wand, and Jarohnen was freed from his bonds. The werewolf continued to mutter to himself in Russian, rubbing the pain out of his wrists and ankles. The silent, monolithic mass of officers then moved down the hall and out the door. Several werewolves watched from the doorway as they got into their car and drove off. 

As soon as they were gone, Jarohnen burst out. "DAMN 'EM!!" he yelled. "THE STINKIN' BASTARDS!" He tried to get up, but his legs were reduced to jelly and wouldn't hold up. 

Lady Winifred went over and linked her elbow in his, helping him stand. "Quiet, Jeroh," she said warily. "Don't make it worse now that it's over."

"It's always they same - sons of bitches taking advantage of us!" Jarohnen balled his trembling hands into fist and shook his head. "My clan spied for the Ministry during the threat of Grindelwald, dear Lady. _We worked for them!_"

Toby the young Freedom Hound put a hand to his forehead. "We know, Jeroh. Don't start it up again," he said, supporting the man on his other side.

"And they never helped us when P.A.W.S. attacked! They never helped us at all! They used us! USED US!" Jarohnen grieved, ranting. 

"We know, we know, old man," Toby said lowly, eyes downcast. He swallowed hard, as if expecting the worse to happen. "Just try and calm down..." 

Lady Winifred and Toby helped Jerohnen back up the stairs to his room. "Some rest and some tea," Lady Winifred said in a soothing voice. "Let me make you some tea, Jarohnen, and let us forget."

"Never forget! How can ya forget when they shove ya out of bed at 1 AM? How can ya forget trying to save the children from the burning house? How can ya forget seeing ya wife hangin' from a meat hook in the town square??" Jarohnen broke down at those words. His feet stopped moving and he leaning on the railing, moaning, "Anya. Dear Anya..."

"Shhhhhh...." Lady Winifred and Toby exchanged glances. Toby lifted Jarohnen into his arms. The Ianikit weighed almost nothing. 

"St. Petersburg again..." he murmured as the three ascended to the second floor. "Everything reminds him of St. Petersburg..."

Other werewolves started to go back to their rooms as well, to see if they could salvage anything from the devastation. Claire sat on her knees in the middle of her trashed office, her head bowed. Ulysses went over to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "You okay, Claire?" he asked.

Madame de Chien-Loup raised her eyes to meet his. They were brimming with tears, but a smile was on her face. "Did you see ze looks on zair faces?" she said, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Either way, zey got what zey wanted. I was so scared of zem and so angry...." She made a stifled choking sound that came out as a strangled laugh. The weak smile on her face grew. 

Ulysses worried, "Claire-" 

"But we survived," Claire declared, throwing her arms around him in a strong hug. Ulysses leaned back, surprised, but then embraced her as well. She buried her head in his chest, her whole body shaking with emotion. For the first time in the ten years Ulysses had known her, he saw her cry. But she was also laughing triumphantly through her tears. 

"Look at us! Zey try to destroy us, but we are 'ere! Zey take our pride, our possessions! Zey demean us, toy wiz us! Yet zey cannot kill us!" Claire's voice cracked as she said her next words. "Zey cannot kill our souls! We survived, Ulysses... We will live...."


	6. Tournament

For disclaimer and additional notes see part 1. 

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Six: Tournament 

by D.M.P.

***

Men are the sport of circumstances.

-Byron, _Don Juan_ V.xvii

***

Chapter 21

The stairway in the trunk led to a tight cramped area, barely larger than a wardrobe. It was probably used to that purpose, which explained the straight wooden bars hung parallel to the ceiling. These bars were draped with cobwebs and layered with dust, revealing just how long it was since the wardrobe was used last. Lupin brushed off a corner for him and Mary and tucked themselves in, holding the lit wand between them.

Mary still had that fearful look about her and hugged herself as she leaned back against the wall. Outside noises were heard, coming to them as faint thumps and ghostly shouts. At once especially loud thud, she jumped and took his hand, shivering. 

"You want to hold this?" Lupin asked her, offering the wand. She nodded and took hold of the glowing stick. She calmed down significantly with the light in her hands.

"Remmy," she inquired, "who are the bad people?"

"The bad people?" Lupin repeated.

"What you said before. I didn't know there were bad people after us."

"Oh, yes," he suddenly remembered. "There are, Mary. The people are from..." Lupin didn't want to say 'police,' afraid of giving the wrong impression to her. "They're from the RMC," he substituted, hoped she wouldn't asked what those letters meant. "I didn't want to tell you before..."

Mary started into the little firefly light for a moment. "You mean you lied to me?" The inquiry came out in a slow, hesitant way. No accusation.

Yet the question came so unexpectedly that Lupin couldn't answer. "I didn't want to worry you," he finally said, after a long while. "It's very grown-up business anyway." Immediately after he said that, he felt a pang of regret, despite its truth. 

"Oh." That was all the girl said in reply. Lupin expected something else from her, and when she continued to be silent, he grew uncomfortable. It was the same feeling he had when trying to explain to her how stealing train rides was legitimate long ago. Except then Mary tried to prove herself right. Now she just accepted whatever Lupin said as correct. He didn't like that.

"Look," he suddenly said, trying to get over his ill feeling. He held his hands up to the wand's light and put them together, thumbs linked. "It's a bird." On the opposite wall of the truck formed a silhouette of a bird, flying in circles.

"I know that one." Mary put the wand down and imitated him. She moved her arms up high over her head. "I can fly higher than you!"

"Really?" Lupin raised his arms up to match hers. "Want to try something else?" He put his arm level with his forehead and his other hand behind his head. "An ostrich," he said, explaining the long-necked creature on the wall.

"Is that a real animal?" Mary asked skeptically.

"Of course." Lupin moved his fore hand and pecked with beak-shaped fingers on top of Mary's head. "Looks like this bird's a little hungry," he said, picking up stands of golden hair.

"Hey! My hair ain't worms," Mary giggled, swatting his hand away. She imitated his ostrich pose and began pecking back. "Ostrich fight!" she declared brightly.

The two started a little head-to-head game of ostrich tackle, which lasted for about ten minutes or so. Lupin was declared a cheater several times, choosing to tickle rather than fight and the end-result being one big laughing fit.

"No fair! Ostriches don't tickle!" Mary tittered rolling up against the staircase.

"Maybe this one is just a very talented bird," Lupin kidded. "After all, ostriches can't fly, so they might as well learn something useful."

"This ostrich can be useful too," Mary dived in, giving him a little head butt as she began tickling him as well. Her smaller hands touch immediately sensed his sensitive spot and Lupin put a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out in seemingly immature glee.

_Thump!_

The two froze in their position. Mary looked up toward the staircase. "What was that?"

"I don't know..."

_Thump!_

Downstairs, the bookshelves in the common room were falling, tipped over by forceful pushes from the RMC officers. 

In the attic, Lupin and Mary sat up, poised.

_Thump!_

Below them, a flood of books and torn pages and scattered playing cards tumbled to the floor..... 

Jarohnen was having a fit in the hallway, with Toby and Ulysses standing over, trying to calm him down.... 

Claire stood stonily in the entrance, fists slowly clenching and unclenching.... 

The RMC officers steady action continued, sweeping through the common room. Parsons took out his knife and stared straight at her. Then, with sudden strength, he plunged the weapon into the couch, as if sublimating his movements..... 

And the final bookshelf fell....

_Thump!_

Lupin and Mary were blind to this, but standing in the quiet darkness, staining their ears, they could faintly hear the shouts from below. 

"All clear, sir! All clear!"

"Start the kitchen and the dining hall!"

Another series of booms and thunks. Chairs being overturned, Lupin guessed. Metallic clatter. Must be pots and pans falling out of their cabinets to the floor. High-pitched smashes that seemed almost indistinct. The sound of china breaking on the linoleum floor.

"What are they doing down there?" Mary asked. 

"I don't know..."

Mary wrung her hands together. "Do you think... Do you think the bad people will hurt anyone?"

"No." The answer came out immediately. "They can't. They won't," Lupin reassured her. "They're officers, they can't harm them, it's -it's wrong..." The sudden worry became cemented in his mind and his attitude became more subdued. Ostrich fights and shadow puppets were forgotten as the devastation progressed beneath them.

"But... but if they're bad guys, then they do bad things, right?" Mary got up and then rushed up the narrow steps. "We gotta help them!"

"Mary!" Lupin got up and grabbed her by the waist. "We can't go up there," he said.

"Why not?" Mary raised her head toward the locked ceiling of the trunk. "Madame de Chien-Loup needs us!" She went on, naming all of the tenants she knew. "And Lady Winifred and Toby and Sylvie and Ulysses and Jarohnen and-" 

"Stop it!" Lupin repeated firmly. "We can't go!"

Mary stared at him mutely.

"They won't hurt anyone. The officers don't have a reason to do so," Lupin explained. His voice came out too fast for his liking, and the idea cemented in his mind grew heavier. "The RMC is only looking for us. They don't want to hurt anyone but us."

"But bad guys don't care who they hurt," Mary reasoned. "Bad guys hurt anyone they want to."

"Well, not all bad guys do," Lupin fired back. The instinctual rationalization came into play. "Sometimes, um, sometimes people do bad things to others, and so those others think those people are bad, but they're really not. Sometimes, people only _do_ bad things, but aren't bad people at all. So...," he sighed, realizing he was contradicting what he said before, "the RMC are _bad_, but only bad to _us_."

The sounds outside intensified, but Mary didn't turn to look up any more. She had her eyes only on him, those clear blue eyes trying to understand what he meant. Trying to understand who he was, who they were. "So if the RMC are bad guys to us... and not _all_ people are bad guys to _everyone_... then... are we bad guys too... to them...?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered.

***

Another fifteen minutes, and a creak was heard from above. Lupin put Mary behind him and returned the wand to his hand. The hazy light beamed down upon them, and they stepped back toward the shadows. 

"It's okay. They're gone," a familiar voice echoed down to them. Lupin stepped foreword and raised his eyes to see Toby, lantern raised above his head, those gold highlights shining against the burnished red.

Lupin nodded in acknowledgment, but it was Mary who ran up the steps and out of the trunk. Her little feet hit the attic floor long before his did, and Mary was down the ladder and out of the room before Lupin even left the trunk. He moved slowly on purpose.

"How bad is it?" he asked Toby.

The young man shook his head. "Bad enough," he replied. "No one hurt, but it was bad enough."

Climbing down the ladder, Lupin saw into the open doorways on the second floor. His eyes widened at the destruction. All the broken keepsakes, the ripped clothing, the overturned mattresses. He passed one room and found metal bits and pieces scattered all over the floor, the remains of a typewriter. He passed another room and saw Jarohnen and Lady Winifred sitting on the disheveled bed. Jarohnen was cradling a mass of splintered wood and string, and Lady Winifred sat nearby, a silent comfort. The old man's mouth moved ever so slightly, forming the words, "Anya.... my Anya..." in sorrowful tones.

_I caused this,_ Lupin thought to himself. It was a numb realization, one that caused a certain shock that rendered him only able to observe with an awkward detachment.

For some reason, Lupin paused by Jarohnen's room and stayed there. Watching the old man hold those scraps of wood so carefully was something he couldn't take his eyes off of. He had never seen Jarohnen whisper like that, or be mournful like that. Always, standing in the center of his beloved Freedom Hounds, he preached and ranted, full of lively energy. Never could he imagine the old man like this. He wondered what those broken bits used to be that affected him so greatly.

Toby paused by the door also. "That was a Stradivarius," he said, as if reading Lupin's mind. "It was his wife's. Jaroh used to play it sometimes, when the winter nights got too quiet. Claire kept it safe for him here." He shook his head. "Can't believe the agents got to the violin."

Carefully, he pulled Lupin's arm away from the doorway, allowing the Ianikit some privacy once more. Yet Lupin could still hear the words, "Anya... my Anya...," ringing in his mind.

Everything seemed to be too real for him, seeing this destruction. Some of the tenants were already in their rooms, righting the beds, gathering the bits and pieces of precious things now lost, their backs bent down like workers sowing in a field. Many had a blank look in their eyes, coated over with acceptance and defeat. More than one werewolf raised their face to give Lupin a resentful eye as he passed. Lupin turned his head away as their sharp glances pierced him, feeling ashamed. Gawking at this like he was some spectator - that wasn't right. And yet he _was_ only a spectator, observing ruin that excluded him. Or rather, placed him in the center of it all. 

Their expressed hatred was justified. Lupin hid himself while they were left to take the officers' backlash. He knew that he had good reason - Mary - but nevertheless, he felt like he had acted the coward once again. The wolf with the tail between his legs.

Toby left his side to help. Lupin watched him slip into the writer's room, the woman looking about for a missing bit. The young man kneeled down to pick up that iron piece and presented it to her like it was solid gold. "You missed one, Sylvie," were his words. 

Coming down the stairs, Lupin saw the hall empty. Yet the sounds of clean-up filled his ears. Groans of wood upon wood as the shelves were being pushed back into place. Subtle-soft whispers of china being swept from the kitchen. Shouts from Ulysses conducting the work in the common room.

"Careful! Careful, now!" A glimpse of him staining against the weight of the bookshelf. "Someone, grab hold!"

Lupin passed by one of the tenant rooms and stopped again. Mary kneeling on the floor, picking up patches of cloth. Contents of Lady Winifred's scrap bag, thrown all over the floor.

Mary looked up at Lupin. There was no bitter feeling in her eyes. "I told her I'd help," she said. "So she could be with Mr. Jarohnen."

Of course. He suddenly became pulled back into reality with those words. The idea came so clearly now, he wondered why it didn't come to mind before. Of course he couldn't just watch! Devastation should never be a spectator sport. 

He took the wand out of his pocket. With a poised, almost casual, wave he raised his arm. Silent words were murmured.

Mary reached for a bit of blue and white striped rag only to have it fly out of her hand. She gasped as then all the bits and pieces of wool and cotton and linen all neatly sorted themselves into organized piles. The balls of yarn became untangled and rolled back up into their tight little bundles, to be stacked by the wall. The mattress stuffing flew back into the pad is if by vacuum force, and the bed made itself, pulling up the sheets and folding up the bedspread. Within minutes, the room was immaculate.

The girl looked up to see Lupin turning from the doorway.

He poked his head into the common room. Ulysses and other Freedom Hounds were lending a hand before tending to their own rooms. The group of seven was busy stacking up books and gathering fallen game pieces. 

One wave of the wand, one burst of magic - the books flew up like birds taking wing and zoomed back into their place on the shelf. Chess pieces danced in the air and before dropping into the wooden box, one by one. What happened with Lady Winifred's mattress repeated with the sofa as well, the stuffing slurped up through the tears into the sofa, the rips sealing themselves up afterwards. 

The Freedom Hounds gazed about with childlike wonder in their eyes as the magic swarmed about them. Some turned their heads to the door and welcomed him a respectful nod, backing away from the middle of the room to let him continue his work. Ulysses had his arms folded across his chest, a welcoming smile on his face.

With the silence fit for a saint, Lupin walked from room to room, straightening out, re-organizing, fitting items in, putting them back, repairing broken irreplaceables once thought to be forever lost. The initial surprise on the tenants' faces Lupin did not notice; their pleasure and gratefulness he treasured.

Once the first few rooms were fixed by his hand, word spread of his actions and everyone at the Safehouse stopped their clean-up. Some followed him after he completed his job fixing their room. A small crowd quickly developed, watching his every move. He was a conductor with his magical baton, composing a sense of order into every mess he came upon. The porcelain chips coalesced to form plates again; the beds reconstructed themselves into study frames of wood; the emptied closets were put into better form than ever before.

Claire was picking up the papers in her office when she saw Lupin and his audience at the threshold. She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off as the papers around her began to rise into the air. Instinctively, she grabbed at them and affronted him with a defensive stare that clearly stated, _Back off._

But Lupin didn't back off and within no time, the papers were stacked neatly into stacks, the books were shelved in alphabetical order, and the phone and computer were in working order once again. Claire sat on the floor, the expression of amazement still on her face as he left the room.

Upstairs, Toby and Sylvie were still cleaning up themselves. The typewriter, however, still lay dismantled in the corner. Lupin crouched down by the pile of scrap metal and picked up the largest piece there, the metal framework of the machine. "_Reparo typewriter_," he said, the first audible words heard throughout his entire salvage mission.

The metal shuddered and all of the little parts were lifted into the air. They buzzed about like little insects, their worn, oiled surface shining like multifaceted eyes. Switches and tiny pulleys were re-assembled and placed in, followed by the tiny hammers that stamped the letters on the paper. The block letters that made up the letter pad were assembled into perfect order and placed on top, lined with the metal sidings and knobs. The final frame to hold the paper was placed in last, with the rulers and sliding bits lining up and locking into place. The machine whole again, Lupin placed the heavy item into the startled hands of Sylvie and Toby. 

"Careful," he said, his mouth forming a smile. "Don't want to drop it."

Lady Winifred was waiting for him with an arm around Jarohnen's shoulder. Delicately draped like a funeral shroud, the broken violin lay in his hands. He and Lupin met eyes and the Ianikit handed it to him. "The wizardin' werewolf," he acknowledged respectfully.

Lupin took up the sealed bundle and opened it. Fractured bits and pieces. Agent Fleming probably threw the violin against the wall. And why? Because wizards don't play Muggle instruments.

"_Reparo violin_," he whispered and the magic worked once more.

Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle thrown together, the shards of wood gathered and fused into one with a hint of golden sparkle. Each of the separate mahogany-colored pieces hovered in the air for a moment, enveloped with a shimmering dust. This dust became like glue and fitted each part of the instrument together. First, the sidings snaked its way along the edge of the backing, to the topped off with the front to form the hollow body. Floated in next came the ebony fingerboard and the neck of the instrument, with the little tuning knobs jumping in place. The bridge of the instrument - a tiny hand-carved sliver of wood - was placed in the middle. Lastly, each string hooked itself up around the tuning knobs and uncurled at the base, straightening themselves up along the fingerboard and taunt across the bridge. A soft chord welled up from the violin as if were singing for joy. The sparkle faded. It was done.

Jarohnen blinked a couple times as if an invisible sun blinded him, and he took hold of the Stradivarius with gentle hands. He ran his fingers over the wood, now whole and unflawed. With quick little plucks, he pulled at the strings to hear each one perfectly in tune. Jarohnen turned the violin over to see the back, and for the first time Lupin noticed that there was a delicate design etched into the wood. Fine threads of dark black snaked along the edge, burnt in with a hot knife. Tiny leaves and flowers bloomed and in the corner, near the shoulder of the instrument was a small symbol. A carefully tooled crest of a black wolf, with a Russian inscription underneath.

Jarohnen rubbed his thumb along that crest, and those broken window eyes darted up at Lupin once more. He opened his mouth and it wobbled, as if unsure of itself. The old man closed those chapped lips, licked them, and opened them again, now managing to speak.

"Anya loved this violin," he said in a nostalgic trance, his tone far from the usual growl. "The family would gather together sometimes when she played our songs. She was marvelous, she..." His voice choked with emotion and he trailed off for a moment. "That night- that night P.A.W.S. came... the clan had to separate. We thought if we did, maybe more of us could flee the city safely. And so Anya put this into my arms and said, 'Take this. Play it, and I will find ya again.' " He shook his head slowly, eyes downcast. " 'Twas the last I saw of her alive. They caught her and my cousins in the train yard. Killed 'em all and strung 'em up the next day as a warnin' to the rest of us."

He grew silent, the story finished. Most of the other tenets left the room by then, willing to give this man some peace. When Lupin turned to go he felt a hand grasp his arm. Jarohnen's eyes were moist with tears as he said a final word.

"Every time I play this, my wife and I find each other. Ya saved her memory, comrade. I will not forget that."

Lupin didn't know what to say. Putting a hand over the Russian's, he squeezed it gently and nodded. An indescribable feeling passed between the two loners, that of sudden trust and loyalty. Then, letting go, the werewolf wizard left the room.

Entering his own room, Lupin felt the sudden weight of the past couple hours suddenly take its toll. The room was still dark, and he could see that the officers did not touch this room, probably thinking it vacant. A sign that he was completely spared from the destruction. 

He fell upon his own bed, and pulled the rumpled bedcover over him. He felt so empty inside; he had been filled with so much grief, worry, and shame that had been slowly siphoned out of his body, leaving behind an empty shell. Glancing at his watch, he found it was only 5:58 in the morning. Outside, the misty gray day was beginning.

He buried his head within the covers. Gentle footsteps entered the room. 

"You okay, Remmy?"

Lupin peered up to see Mary by his bedside. He took her hand in his. "I'm fine, my girl," he said. "Just a little tired."

"Madame de Chien-Loup wanted to say thank you," she informed him. "She wanted to know if you'd like breakfast now." 

"Maybe later. Aren't you tired too?"

She shook her head.

"Means that you'll be going to bed early tonight."

" 'Sokay." She paused for a moment. "You did a really nice thing, Remmy. I wanna say thank you too." 

Lupin gave a sad smile. "Your welcome then. Tell the others that as well."

She nodded. The girl leaned over by the bedside. Small lips pressed against his cheek, long lashes brushing across the skin. Butterfly kiss. "G'night," she said sweetly. 

"Good night." Lupin rolled over on his side, hearing the door being closed behind him. Silence crept into the room. He lay in bed, staring at the painted walls, thinking. Downstairs he heard the active daytime noises of cooking and chatter. Everyone was moving on from what happened just hours before. Yet there were so many blank faces in the halls and in the tenant's rooms, as the werewolves garnered what little they can. How many times did they have to go through incidents similar to tonight? How many times must they go through it again before their pitiful street lives are over? 

But within the stillness there was a weak murmur that broke his train of thought. Lupin focused his hearing. A faint, beautiful caress humming through the air. The dainty sound of dancing notes, weaving in and out, up and down, drifting through the air on gossamer wings. A nostalgic voice calling from a time long gone by. The tune of a Russian folk dance.

The last thing Lupin heard was the Anya's song, lulling him to sleep.

Chapter 22

Lupin awoke to the hot, afternoon sun beaming down upon him from the bare window. He got that feeling one gets when they have been in bed for too long - a dizzy, lethargic sense that led to stiffness of the limbs and laziness of the eye. He groaned and got up, refusing to be conquered by apathy.

Stopping by the communal washroom to splash some cold water over his face, he then headed to the common room. The hallway doors were slightly ajar, with many of the rooms completely empty and cleaned out as if they were never occupied. That bothered Lupin, considering that with at least thirty current tenants, all the rooms were filled. 

The common room was less populous than it was before, with only a fraction of lodgers remaining. Sylvie was at her typewriter in the corner as usual, and Ulysses had started a game of poker, with each of the Freedom Hounds betting cigarettes in place of money. Yet they were the only ones there. 

Ulysses was passing the cards, saying in a business-like manner, "Easy five-card draw; wilds are one-eyed Jacks and suicide Kings; winner takes all."

Jarohnen was sitting on the bricks by the hearth, his Stradivarius in hand. He was showing Mary how to pull the string across the bow. It was one of the first times Lupin saw the two interact together. But of course, since Lupin had not allowed Mary to associate with him before.

Making his way to kitchen, he saw Claire washing the dishes.

"Most of them left," he stated.

Claire turned her head with her arms still in the sink, up to the elbows in suds. It was one of the few moments in the day she appeared domestic, with her hands scrubbing away and a wisp of hair hanging down over her eyes. Lupin wanted to brush that wisp of hair away, but did not dare make a move. 

"_Bonne après-midi_," she greeted. "I 'ave something for you on ze table."

A warm bowl of beef stew with some bread on the side. A half-full pot of coffee accompanied it, steaming still rising from the top. He glanced at her turned back. How did she know he'd be awake? 

"Thanks." Lupin gratefully took a seat and repeated his comment. 

"_Oui_." Claire took a pot in her hands and started scrubbing the stained interior. "Lady Winifred and most of ze street wanderers left zis morning."

"But why?"

"Because I told zem zey could leave."

"What?" he asked, surprised.

Claire fired him a look. "It wasn't like I kicked zem out. I told everyone after ze clean-up zat we all know ze truth, wiz you and Mary 'ere. And I gave zem two choices. Stay, and possibly be indicted for 'elping a wanted felon by ze Registry, or leave for France where my cousin Eunice owns ze Safehouse in La Brague."

Lupin shook his head. "It shouldn't be this way..."

"Hey, at least zey are not stuck out in ze cold." Claire shelved the last of the clean dishes and hung the old towel on the hook by the sink. "I'll be in my office," she said, leaving through the door behind him. 

Thinking himself to be alone in the room, Lupin poured himself a cup of coffee. There was cream and sugar on the table too. Helping himself, he stirred him two sugars and sipped from warm mug. He jumped when a delicate hand touched his shoulder, nearly upsetting his cup. 

A hushed whisper behind him. "_Merci beaucoup_, Remus." Then she was gone.

Lupin hesitantly touched his shoulder where her hand was and glanced behind him at the empty doorway. "Hmf." 

A small smile crept across his face for no apparent reason as he picked up a thick slice of bread. Dipping it into the bowl, he took a bite, then a sip of his coffee. His eye wandered to see that Claire was also considerate enough to leave the Sunday edition of the_ Daily Prophet_ out. It must not contain any articles concerning him, or she would have told him so. 

He felt relieved that the Safehouse search didn't make the news. Yet why would it? The wizard reporters were mostly biased in favor toward wizards during their article writing; who would dare write a story based on the prejudices of public? However, if he _was_ caught last night, then every wizard paper from London to Bangkok would be filled with righteous details about how an evil werewolf was brought to justice. He could see the perfect headline for it as well: "Big Bad Wolf Caught with Illegitimate Pup." 

Lupin picked up the paper offhandedly, mug in hand. However, the front page made him lose his appetite.

BLACK ARRESTED AFTER HOME INVASION

The mug fell from his hand. He never noticed until he found that the sleeves of his robes were wet. 

"Oh!"

Floundering, he grabbed for a napkin and hastily mopped up the spill, holding the paper up in disbelief. His eyes scanned the heading several times, letting the information sink into his brain. It was a relatively lengthy article, accompanied with a picture. The photo was of an old, stout wizard, beaming. The man chuckled to himself, hands on his protruding belly, and winked up at Lupin. Underneath it was the caption, "Ex-MLES officer Harvey Plumb succeeds in Black capture." 

If it were not for the fact that Plumb was only a picture, Lupin would have punched that cheeky grin off the wizard's face. Instead, he began to read.

At around two in the morning, the last thing on any wizard's mind would be an intruder. Yet last night Harvey Plumb was more than shocked to discover a wanted ex-convict in his living room.

"I was scared half out of my wits," the 57 year-old wizard confided to the Associated Wizard Press this morning. "Heard some peculiar noises when I got home, but only thought it was my cat Stockings roaming around."

But it certainly wasn't a household pet that occupied his three-story home. Plumb, after coming home from a late-night party, heard some suspicious sounds when he came through the front door, but only thought it was only his cat misbehaving. However, when he checked the living room, he saw a trespasser kneeling down in front of his fireplace. Taking quick action, Plumb successfully fired a Stun Spell at the stranger, knocking him unconscious.

"It was almost an instinctive reaction," Plumb, a retired MLES captain, commented. "I mean, twenty years on the Magical Law Enforcement Squad teaches you to act fast when you have to."

That police experience became extremely helpful to Plumb, especially when he found out that the interloper was none other than the infamous Sirius Black. Plumb, then immediately called the MLES and handed over the fugitive to the proper authorities.

"I would call it more luck than skill that I got him," he admitted. "But nevertheless, I suppose I still got the skills it takes to bring down the bad guys."

Black, known as the murderer of thirteen people with a single curse and devoted follower of You-Know-Who, has been on the run since last June. Previously, he had been caught on Hogwarts grounds by Professor Serverus Snape, but had managed to slip out of the Ministry's grasp before he could be taken to Azkaban. 

This morning Ministry representative Basil O'Shay reported in a press conference the possible motives for the home invasion. 

"Apparently, Black had broken into the home with the intention of using the fireplace," O'Shay informed reporters, "possibly to contact the Dark Lord."

As an ironic twist, Black must not have realized that he had broken into a home of a retired police official. Now in custody, many wonder what Black's fate will be, yet most have a good idea that it would end up in the Dementor's embrace....

The article went on to explain what the details of Black's past history as a runaway and his escapade at Hogwarts, much of which Lupin already knew. However, his eyes ran over the article once, twice, three times, with both hands clutching the paper, his iron grasp crushing the flimsy newsprint. 

No.

_It couldn't be,_ he thought. _Not now, not Sirius!_ Yet as the minutes passed, the words of the _Daily Prophet_ slowly ingrained itself into his conscious. The Ministry had caught Sirius Black. After almost five months from wild freedom, his old friend was reined in once again.

Lupin swallowed hard, his mouth gone dry. Supercharged emotion coursed through his veins, another shot of adrenaline that he tasted the night before while in hiding. The shortness of breath. The heartbeat racing. Almost blinding disbelief that made him feel lightheaded and weak. 

_God, calm yourself, Remus! Breathe!_

Finally putting down the newspaper, he put his head in his arms. He gulped another draught of air, then another. _Be rational about this, Remus. Calm down._

_Think about the situation. Go over what you've just read._

First off, Sirius had been caught by the Ministry.

Damn.

Second, he was caught invading another wizard's home.

Why?

Obviously the Ministry's assumption that Black had been contacting the Dark Lord was false. Sirius was never one of Voldemort's followers - of that Lupin could be sure. But if Black had any reason to use the fireplace, it would be in contacting someone, since he didn't have any Flue Powder for transportation. Any there was only one person he would want to talk to.

Harry.

Yet why would he want to talk to the boy? Lupin knew full well of Harry's letters that he had been sending Sirius; Black had showed him them during their summer rendezvous. Sirius must have had some extremely urgent information to tell Harry if he would risk using another person's fireplace to talk with the boy face-to-face.

Lupin was sure of the reason why: the Triwizard Tournament. All the earlier suspicions he had about the event were confirmed with Sirius' actions. Of course some underhanded business was going on if Harry was put into the Tournament, especially since he was far too young to qualify. Harry might very well be in danger. Only that could have brought Black to come to such an extreme.

But did Black ever get a chance to talk to Harry? How much did Sirius suspect, or how much did Harry learn from him, if they spoke together at all? And exactly what danger was Harry in, besides the ones involved with participating in the Tournament? Did Black suppose the First Task itself was rigged against Harry? Could there even be a saboteur residing at Hogwarts? 

A million and one possibilities laid before Lupin with this new information. However, one thing was certain: he _had_ to attend the Triwizard Tournament. For the boy's sake, above all else. If Sirius forsaken his freedom, possibly even his life for Harry, Lupin saw no choice but to take Sirius' place and fulfill his wishes. He would become Harry's watcher, his lookout, his de facto guardian.

Lupin rose from his chair, feeling a sickening, self-consciousness from the importance of his self-imposed duty. He stared at the newspaper article one more time, then his hand grabbed the edge of the front page. With a steady pull, he ripped the top half of the front page off and crumpled it up. The picture of Plumb looked surprised at such action, and mouthed silent words of protest as he beat against the edge of the photo. Ignoring Plumb's reaction, Lupin crumpled the paper, forming it into a tight, harmless wad. Then, he tossed it onto the magical stove. Automatically, the heating mechanism triggered. Lupin watched unflinchingly as the paper withered, blackened, and crumpled into white ash.

Chapter 23

Madame de Chien-Loup was re-organizing some files on the shelf when Lupin stepped into her office. Even though the papers had been gathered up last night, they were still out of order. Claire was in the middle of revamping the entire Safehouse paper database, and many manila folders, portfolios, and large binders littered the desk and floor. She certainly had a many hours of work ahead of her.

"Claire?"

"Yes, Remus?"

He took and seat in front of her desk and fold his hands together. Lupin paused, unsure about how to begin. "The Triwizard Tournament is coming up in a couple days," he began casually.

"You _still_ want to go?" Claire didn't bother to hide her surprised tone of voice. She dropped the pile of files back on her desk and gave him a look of disbelief. 

"I have to go," Lupin explained. "I just gotten word for some very pressing issues that I need to attend to."

"You want to go?" she could only repeat in a hard voice.

He bit his lip. "Yes," he affirmed, uncertain of her reaction. "I need to see that man you know, Claire, who can get me in."

"Oh, I see...." she turned to him, arms crossed. "After last night wiz ze Registry 'ere. Wiz ze Ministry obviously on pursuit. Wiz possibly ze whole wizard community about to be put on alert for ze only werewolf wizard in existence. And 'ere you think, 'Hey, why not go out and watch ze wizard game!' "

"It's more than that-"

"What? Ze Potter boy? Do you 'ave to risk everything for ze Potter boy?" Claire narrowed her eyes at him. "What makes 'im so special?"

It wasn't so much that fact that Harry was in danger than it was that it would have been Sirius' final wish. Oh, if only Lupin could explain this to her! Yet her anger was reasonable. This risky request just made Lupin seem ungrateful for what the werewolves had done for him, didn't it?

"I'm not unappreciative for anything that you've done for me and Mary," Lupin started again, "and I don't mean to take advantage of your situation in anyway. It's just that..."

"Zat what?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had no choice but to reveal to her what he knew. "Sirius Black was caught by the MLES last night."

"Yes, I know. What does zat 'ave to do wiz anything?" 

He stared at her straight in the eye. "He's a close friend of mine."

An odd expression swept across her face, as if he had said the very thing she had least expected. "You _know_ Sirius Black?" she said in a low voice.

"We became friends during my years at Hogwarts," he answered. 

"And you are still friends wiz Black now?" Claire questioned, aghast. "You-Know-Who's right hand man? Ze lunatic who killed thirteen people wiz a single curse??"

"No, no, it wasn't him who killed them; it's a long story..." Lupin took a step toward her, but she backed away from him. Her gray eyes reflected a confused mistrust.

"And I believed you were ze wizard boy's ally, a friend," she accused. But you really want to kill 'im, just like Black wanted to do!"

"Get a hold of yourself, Claire and let me explain," he said gently. He backed away as well, throwing caution to the wind.

"Black was ze Dark Lord's servant." Madame was slowly opening the drawer and took something out. "Ze papers say zat he was ze one who convinced many to follow 'im. Zat he rounded up ze Death Eaters."

"That is all lies, all media propaganda. Sirius isn't the same person portrayed by the Ministry." Seeing the look of obvious skepticism in her face, he started again. "Listen, I believed that story as well; I believed it for many years. Black being Voldemort's servant. But it's all false. Black was framed for the murders-"

"Do you 'ave proof of zis?" Claire snapped. 

"I have personal proof." Lupin thought of that night at the Shrieking Shack, and was sorely tempted to tell her of it. But there can be so few with whom he could confide this information with, and even if he did, would she believe him? About his friends being Animagi? About how Peter Pettigrew, that deceptive rat, betrayed his friends and set Black up to take the fall for him? The whole story was too personal, too deep, for him to confess. And what if she should scoff at his words? He did not have any evidence, other than his own experience. No, he cannot tell her now; ridicule from her would be too much.

"I trust Black," he could only confirm. "I would risk my life for him, Claire." One step foreword. 

"I don't want you to endanger yourself." She turned her head, revealing her sharp profile against the soft office light. "We - my people - cannot lose you."

Was it truly the werewolf community, or one person in particular? Lupin frowned, pushing back the question from his mind. "I will take precautions," he said. "There are spells that would help me. I planned to take the Polyjuice Potion," he said, giving an example, "to help disguise myself during the Tournament."

"Are you sure you want to do zis?" A final question.

"Yes."

Lupin could not be sure of the expression on her face. Her shoulders, however, slumped down a bit before she agreed. "I'll tell you where Garrett is," she said. "He'll take you." 

***

"I bet a five."

"But you don't have any fives."

Dominic picked up a cigarette from his personal stash and snapped it in half. Throwing the shorter stub into the betting pile, the blond werewolf grinned. "Now I do."

"That's a cheap move." Toby, who was sitting across from him, picked up one of his own cigarettes as an example. "This is a ten, you see." Ripping the cigarette in half, he then explained, "But this is not a five. This is crap." The ruined cigarette dropped from his hands, sending tobacco crumbs all over the playing table. "See? So don't wimp out and go bet a ten."

"That isn't crap," the fellow Freedom Hound defended. 

"You bet it ain't crap." A dark-eyed woman snatched the unfiltered end of Toby's cigarette and lit it with a lighter. Taking a puff, she blew the smoke into Toby's face, laughing, "Still tastes good to me!"

Toby fanned his hand over his face, coughing. "Stop it, Antonia," he snapped.

"Oh, kiddo, you know I only joke." The Spanish lady reached over and ruffled the young man's hair. "You so decent, it kills me."

"It's still legit," Dominic pressed, still on his topic. He put his elbows on the table and put his cards face down on the table. "I mean, half a ten is five, so why can't half a fag be counted as a bet of five? Right? Right?" He turned to the other player for support. "Theo? Harriet? Margie?"

"Hey, you're already winning by two packs," growled Theo bitterly. "Don't be stingy about betting." The two women made no comment and stuck to examining their hands in further detail.

"Isn't it legit, Ulysses?" Dominic continued. "You gotta know."

Ulysses looked up from his hand, his face still in bland poker-mode. "Yea, I don't see nothin wrong with that," he drawled. 

"See?" Dominic approved. He slapped down his hand in triumph. "Told ya so."

"But I agree with Toby here," Ulysses added in that same tone, "that you was cheap. Trade in two, Theo."

Toby smirked. "Ha," he scoffed, grabbing the other half that Antonia didn't take. He lit that piece and put the ripped cigarette to his lips, letting it hang there, smoldering.

Ulysses rolled his eyes, then spotted Lupin entering the common room. "Hey, Remus," Ulysses called, waving a hand from the table. "Want to join in?"

Lupin shook his head. There was a somewhat distracted look in his eye. "Not now," he answered, "I don't smoke anyway."

"Well, neither do I." Toby removed his cigarette and exhaled blank air. "See? Don't inhale."

"Odd one prefers sniffing," Harriet commented. 

"Hey, I figure it's less poisonous to the lungs that way," Toby defended.

Antonia stared at him mockingly. "And what kind of outlandish idea is that?"

"It's been proven," Toby said, leaning back in his chair. "Muggle studies somewhere... America right?"

Antonia put the stub of her cigarette out on the tabletop. "America. When did anything good come from America? Rich, incompetent wizards and rude, flamboyant Muggles."

Lupin smiled and shook his head, amused at their playful banter. All the stress of last night's Registry sweep seemed wiped from their faces. But he knew that it was only part of the life of a street wolf - a constant game of grin and bear it. They were a tough little pack; the homeless in itself made a league of their own.

Taking a seat in the corner, he watched Jarohnen and Mary with the Stradivarius. Mary waved to him with bow in hand. "Mr. Jarohnen is teaching me how to play," she told him.

"Careful, comrade, careful," Jarohnen reached out to pluck the bow from her hands. "Hold it with a swan's grace - gently, like this."

Jarohnen showed Mary how to hold the instrument correctly, with the left arm supporting the violin while the right grasping the bow. Adjusting her stance, he instructed, "Hold that violin up higher. Keep your chin tucked in. Don't bend your wrist. There," he finished, backing off. "Now try a few notes."

"Hey, Remmy, watch," Mary cried, trying to keep the large instrument in the correct position. The instrument was far too large for her to handle, and her little hands barely managed to keep the violin from slipping from her grasp. 

Mary moved her right arm, pulling the bow across the strings. Several high-pitched, scratchy rasps came out. Both Lupin and the Freedom Hounds cringed in their places at the off-tune notes, but Jarohnen clapped loudly.

"You're getting there," he reassured, coming back to the child. "Just hold your bow straighter so it plays across one string at a time." 

Mary tried one more time, with another scratchy result. Lupin's mind, however, wandered from the terrible sounds to focus on what he had to do.

The idea of going to the Triwizard Tournament was a daunting realization, now that the actually task was at hand. Today was November 23; the Tournament was going to start within two days. He told Claire that he would get a disguise, or rather, a sample from someone he would want to impersonate. Taking a hair from any deadbeat on the streets would be easy enough, yet he knew that he would not be able to get into the Tournament as a Muggle. One of Hogwart's many bulwarks was a type of don't-notice-me spell similar to a Fidelius Charm, except that it affected Muggles only. So if Lupin were to disguise himself as a Muggle, he would never be able to find Hogwarts; even if he walked right into Hogwarts' front doors, he would never realize it. 

Therefore it would be best if Lupin found a wizard whom he could pass off as, but that was even harder. He had no idea if and when the Registry wanted to go public about his crimes, and confronting a possible witness to his whereabouts was something that Lupin did not want. The only choice, he now realized, was to try and use the Polyjuice Potion to morph into another fellow werewolf.

He looked at the scene with its seeming harmony and peace. Who would be willing to help him with this? All of them, essentially - that is why they stayed here while everyone else left for La Brague, isn't it? 

Jarohnen was teaching Mary where to place her fingers on the fingerboard in an attempt for her to play actual notes. Lupin called him over.

I can't press the string down enough," Mary muttered. "My hands are too small."

"Just try again, now. Ya almost got it," Jarohnen assured before approaching Lupin. he guided the old man to a far corner, making sure than no one else was within hearing range. Mary looked at them wonderingly, but then returned to her attempts at the violin.

"I need to ask for your advice," Lupin said to Jarohnen confidentially. 

"Anything." The Russian spread his arms out while saying this. "Go ahead." 

"It's about the Triwizard Tournament."

Jarohnen's attitude immediately hardened at the mention of that name. "The wizard event?" he growled. 

"I want to sneak in. I've already talked this over with Claire," he added, "and she has agreed to it."

Jarohnen arched an eyebrow skeptically. "I never thought ya would be concerned with wizardin' things." He scoffed a bit. "Wizards sending their own youngsters to get killed doin' stupid stunts. Only they would call it a spectator sport."

"It's very important that I go. Personal matters." Lupin gave a momentary pause. "I can't go as myself."

"Then how can I help?" 

"I'm making a potion that would help disguise myself, but all it needs is a hair sample from the one I want to pass myself off as."

The old man lightened up at the mention of magic. "Ya need me for your spells?"

Lupin explained, "I need to impersonate someone. Hopefully, I wouldn't be caught by Tournament security then. Do you know anyone willing to do this?"

"Why not me?" Jarohnen suggested. "I wouldn't mind."

Lupin eyed the old man questionably, taking note of the stooped back, the withered hands, and small limbs. "I think I might need someone younger..." he said apologetically.

"I'm not as poor in shape as ya think," Jarohnen refuted. "Hell, I'm 84 years old, but that don't mean I'm lacking in spirits."

Trying to be sincere as possible, he replied, "I'm very flattered at your offer, but I have to be sure the body I duplicate is physically fit enough to react quickly if needed."

Jarohnen didn't seem to be listening anymore. "Look, is it a hair ya need?" He took a pocketknife from within his flannel shirt and easily clipped a tuff of snowy white hair. "This enough?"

Lupin received the lock of hair graciously. "Um, thank you," he said.

"No problem, comrade," Jarohnen tipped his head and gave a small smile.

"I might need more than one disguise, however," Lupin added casually, "as an extra precaution."

"Nice thinkin'." Jarohnen waved a hand toward the card table. "Boy, get over here."

Toby stopped leaning back in his chair and put down his cards on the table. "No cheating," he warned, getting up from his seat. Upon turning his back, however, Dominic peeked at the young Freedom Hound's hand. "A royal flush," he announced. 

The other Freedom Hounds groaned or rolled their eyes at this tactic. Margie, who was sitting next to him, punched Dominic in the shoulder. "You dumb scallywag!" 

"Are you still betting then?" Dominic sneered.

She sighed and threw her cigarette in. "Idiot," she muttered.

Meanwhile, Toby met up with the two. "What is it, Jaroh?" he asked.

"Toby here's the youngest of all of us," Jarohnen said to Lupin. "How old are ya now?" he asked Toby.

"Nineteen in April," Toby answered. 'Why?"

"Spry and healthy. The peak of his youth." Jarohnen said proudly. "Ya willin' to help the wizardin' werewolf with somethin'?"

"Of course!" was the eager reply. "What do you need me for?"

Lupin explained for the third time his plans for the tournament. "What do you think?" he ended.

Toby frowned. "It's risky. And I have no idea what you see in wizards at all...." he sighed. "What if you get caught? What would happen to Jaroh and me?"

"That's the risk," Lupin said. "You don't have to do this-"

"Who said I wasn't? Jaroh, lend me your knife." With one deft stroke, he chopped off a snip of his red hair right above the ear. Giving the hair to Lupin he said, "Just be careful."

Jarohnen nodded with approval at the boy's agreement. "Toby's right," he said, turning serious. "We're countin' on ya not to make any dumb mistakes."

***

On the morning of November 25, Lupin got ready to leave the Safehouse for Hogwarts. The Polyjuice Potion was made and poured into two canteens for him to carry on a belt around his waist. One contained his disguise as Jarohnen, the other as Toby. He planned to come in as the old man, on Claire's advice, for the elderly wasn't suspected as much as the young. Toby's disguise would be on standby, just in case Lupin ever needed to become someone younger and more able than the Russian. 

Besides the canteens of Polyjuice Potion, Lupin didn't pack anything else other than his wand and some money; that was enough to take care of him. After years of traveling alone, he considered this short trip a leisurely one, for this time he actually had a decent amount of cash on him. That was provided by Claire: a few Sickles and Knuts. She made no complaints about the budget this time.

"Just stay out of ze cold," she told him. Handing him the money, she hesitated, as if wanting to say something else. Yet she only added, "And keep your nose clean, _oui_?" After that, she quickly escaped into her office and shut the door.

Mary was another matter entirely.

"You can't leave!" she protested. "I don't want you to!"

"It's only a couple of days," Lupin promised. "Just stay with Claire and I'll be back before you know it. Mr. Jarohnen promised to give you another lesson with the Stradivarius."

She flung her arms around Lupin's waist and let her feet drag along the ground. Burying her head in leg she said in a muffled voice, "Please take me with you..."

"I can't, Mary." Lupin gingerly disentangled himself from her. "I have business to attend to and I need to do it by myself."

"But," she still latched on, "I get scared when you're not here."

"I'll always be here." Lupin touched the cross that Mary wore around her neck. He had removed his identification tags from it earlier and given the necklace to the girl as a gift. "Remember what I told you before?"

Mary nodded.

"Trust me."

She grasped the small cross, an action that Lupin had done himself many times. "I won't let it go until you come back," she declared in a low voice.

"Well, I won't dawdle. You might hurt your hand from holding on too tight." Lupin kissed the girl on the top of her head. "Take care, Mary."

She lowered her eyes, her hand clasped over the necklace. Her little figure standing in the foyer was the last thing Lupin saw when he left.

Chapter 24

Finding transportation to the Triwizard Tournament was easier than Lupin expected. The Tournament was a high-profile event, yet was restricted from public attendance because of the massive crowding and safety concerns that would result from open attendance. However, that also meant other methods to witness the event were highly popular, if the right place was found.

Lupin went underground to accomplish this, literally and figuratively, by way of the subway station. The place was packed with commuters all on the go; practical since this was rush hour. Yet gazing over the Muggle swarm, he spotted who he was looking for quickly. 

A nonchalant man sat at the bench near the base of the stairs. He was dressed in shabby, loose-fitting clothing worn only by the homeless, a stack of newspapers by his side. He seemed out of place sitting there, especially when a newspaper stand was less than ten meters away. 

"Got all the papers, 'cluding overseas!" the owner of the newspaper stand called. "London Times! Wall Street Journal!"

Lupin walked down the stairway leading to the platform to the bench. He met the occupant's pointed stare. "Want to read the paper?" the stranger offered when he came within hearing distance. A rolled up _London Times_ was tucked in his fist. "Heard there's a big event in the Sports section."

"Very big, in fact. I'm quite eager to go," Lupin acknowledged. "How do you know I'll get a better price with you than somewhere else?" He tipped his head over to the stand.

"You interested in just reading about sports, or actually _being_ there?" the man countered.

"You know how to take me?"

"I have a ship docked at port, ready to sail."

"I'm interested." Lupin sat down on the bench. "You are Garrett, correct?"

"Since I can remember." 

"Is that a Portkey you're holding there?"

"Snitched it during the Quidditch World Cup and revamped it myself." The man smiled proudly to himself. "Those bungling officers don't know how to handle nothin'." Then he turned serious. "This is a one-way ticket here, chum. You find your own way out of Hogwarts and I'm not responsible if you get caught or anythin'."

"All right then," Lupin agreed readily. "How much?"

"50 Galleons."

"I don't have that kind of money on me."

"Then bug off, chum. Can't waste my time on you." The smuggler moved to get up from his seat, but Lupin put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"I heard you bunked with Claire de Chien-Loup awhile back."

Garrett softened. "The lady's a saint. I came to her with a bout of pneumonia and she sat by my side every day 'til I got better." He fidgeted a bit with the rolled up newspaper. "Is it true?" he asked slowly. "About the Registry comin' to the Safehouse?"

Lupin nodded gravely. "The officers completely ransacked the place, but no one got hurt."

He gave a low growl. "Damn bastards.... Shoulda been there." 

"I was there," Lupin assured, "and helped out with the clean-up. Claire sent me here."

Garrett nodded, staring ahead into the milling crowd. Biting his lower lip, he stated, "Me and Charlotte," - he pointed over to the owner of the newspaper stand - "we might drop by there later." With a sidelong glance he added, "You're not pulling my chain? You coming from Claire?"

"How else would I have found you than through her?"

He thought this over a bit, then looked behind him and waved. The girl at the stand gave a brief nod, then continued her advertising. 

"I suppose I owe you something then." The man gestured toward the newspaper stand. "We disappear in the crowd," he said. "Walk toward the stand. No one would notice."

They both got up from the bench and nonchalantly walked toward the crowd. Mingling with the rushing Muggles, Lupin lost sight of the smuggler. Then, he felt someone shove an open newspaper into his hand. Garrett whispered, "Hold on."

Lupin did and felt a sudden jerk so quick that he almost fell. He collided in with the man and the two bumped heads. Yet before he could even cry out, Lupin felt something pull at him, and he rushed forward, into a whirlwind accompanied by a flash of color and light-

_Thump!_

He and the smuggler fell on top of each other as they hit the ground, tangling themselves so that the man's knees were pushing his head into the ground. As a result, Lupin unpleasantly received a mouthful of dirt. 

"Get offa me!" Garrett disentangled himself from Lupin and straightened out his clothing. "You're in the woods five kilometers or so from Hogwarts," he said. "Head north and you'll get there."

"Uh... thanks..." Lupin rubbed his head where he had hurt himself. He coughed a couple times and brushed the bits of dried grass from his jacket.

"Don't mention it." Garrett opened up the newspaper up. The Portkey was triggered again and Lupin watched as the man's middle was pulled in. He seemed to be made of rubber as his waist was slowly being pulled through the newspaper. "Good luck, Lupin," he added briefly.

How did he know his name? Lupin wanted to ask, but by then the man was completely sucked up into the paper, leaving it briefly floating in mid-air. Then, the newspaper collapsed in on itself, crumbling and shrinking until it disappeared with a faint _pop!_

Now alone, Lupin took a view of his surroundings. He was officially in the Forbidden Forest; the heavy undergrowth and thick, massive trees was a clear sign of that. The forest was still draped with the colors of dying autumn. Unlike London, it wasn't covered with a layer of snow. Using his wand, Lupin commanded, "_Illac Hogwarts!_" His wand rose up into the air and spin around like a compass needle, finally settling in a northward direction. Taking heed for the path ahead of him, Lupin them plucked his wand out of the air and journeyed forth.

Five kilometers of walking didn't bother him in the least, and Lupin was only concerned about not getting lost. Several times he repeated the spell in order to check that he was heading in the right direction. One would fear that monsters and dangerous creature might be haunting these woods as well, but Lupin had no need to be afraid. The Forbidden Forest around the Hogwarts was relatively safe, since it was considered centaur territory. Centaurs may be reclusive from humankind, but they knew how to protect their lands and were extremely watchful of their property. The only thing that Lupin feared was getting caught trespassing by an unruly centaur archer.

Thankfully, the trek through the forest remained uneventful and after about an hour he found himself near the edge of the woods. Because he was coming round the back of the school, he didn't expect to see anyone there. However, as he got closer, the sounds of a large gathering came to his ears, along with faint roaring from some large animal. When the forest thinned out, Lupin could see a bright yellow tent set up nearby, and an even larger enclosure made out of thick planks of wood and chain-link fencing. The roars came from there, bellowing out into the open sky.

Lupin crept up to the side of the enclosure to see if he could make out what it contained. The wooden planks were sealed tight, but Lupin managed to spot a small crack between two of the boards. Peering through, he saw a flash of blue scales sweep by. Then, a wizard's voice called out, "Whoa back!" Several snaps of cable were heard and the thing moved away from the sidewall into full view. The creature roared out a blast of pale-blue flame, bucking back against its keepers.

Lupin almost felt his heart stop.

Dragons.

The first task was dragons.

"Watch out! Whoa back!" came the call again. Several men and women surrounded the beast, throwing ropes over its back and neck, trying to keep it still. The Swedish Short-Snout bucked and kicked, stretching its sleek, firm muscles and sending out billows of white smoke and blue fire. Nearby the red, spiky form of the Hungarian Horntail was seen pacing the enclosure, while a Welsh Green and a Chinese Fireball snapped at each other, with wizards trying to stop this skirmish.

What kind of mad event is this? Making the students face dragons?? Fear quickly welled up within him for the poor challengers and his concern for Harry grew. He never thought the Ministry would be as crazy as to allow students as young as him into something as reckless as this! Surely, something could easily go wrong. Lupin imagined a hundred and one things happening to the child: being burned alive with seething flames, or chomped on by vicious jaws, or simply being flattened by one stomp of the beast's foot.

Well, Lupin just had to make sure Harry knew what he was doing. Yet Harry also had no idea about Black's capture. The boy had to know, but was now the right time to tell him? Certainly with the First Task about to commence in only a few minutes, Harry must already be a nervous wreak. Lupin did not want to put the boy's state in more severe jeopardy.

Taking the canteen of Polyjuice Potion from his hip, Lupin took off the cap. He had to get in disguise before he took a seat in the audience. Checking around to be sure he was alone, he then raised the canteen to his lips. The fetid stench imposed upon his sensitive supernatural sense of smell and he held the container away from him. A cross between prune juice and rotten eggs - not the most invigorating of scents. Holding his nose, Lupin gulped a good dose of the potion down.

The liquid zoomed straight down into his stomach and spread throughout his body as if melting his insides. He scrunched up and kneeled over, nearly dropping the canteen. Immediately, his back bent to an aging stoop - his knees creaked unpleasantly - his frame shrunk - arms and legs shortening, and his clothes becoming looser - the hair on his head began to recede, then bloom out and turn white as his nose grew larger and his face began to sag with age- 

And then, the metamorphosis abruptly stopped. He looked down at his hands, now wizened and covered with age spots. He flexed his fingers together and moved his arms and legs a bit. Very stiff, slightly sore.... Lupin suddenly felt much more fragile than he had before in his own body. It was as if he should fall he might break into a million pieces. Probably true, considering that Jarohnen was 84 years old. From his jacket he produced a set of robes he had carried with him, and gingerly put them on, completing his disguise.

However, taking a step foreword, Lupin was surprised to realize that he did not suffer any pain or rheumatism. Waving his arms back and forth a bit proved that Jarohnen's body did not suffer from arthritis or any signs of weakness at all. He walked faster, assured that the Ianikit wasn't lying at all about his state of health. 

Lupin made his way to the group of filing spectators heading into the arena. Moving with the hurrying spectators, he passed by a small yellow tent set up by the entrance. Two stern-faced ministry officers waited outside the flap opening. A frowning Professor McGonagall slipped out, murmuring something to the guards. She wore a troubled expression on her face, with her arms crossed and her brow knitted with worry. It was the most distressed state Lupin had ever seen her in; she must be truly concerned for Harry.

Lupin stopped where he was and paced slowly around the tent, keeping with the crowds so that the guards wouldn't notice. Soft light radiated from the tent; inside, several figures sat or paced. The Four Champions.

Harry was in there. Maybe Lupin could wait outside for him, possibly slip in when he's alone....

One of the guards took noticed of him and started walking through the crowds to get to him. Lupin darted away, slipping past wizards and hurrying toward the entrance of the arena.

Enormous wooden bleachers were set up around the area; it was obvious that they were magically set up or it would have taken weeks otherwise. Some lucky wizards who had spots on the lower half only had to climb the stairs, but those with higher seats had security officials levitating them up. Others even took their broomsticks to catch a quick ride to the top row. Looming on top of the bleachers on either side were the spacious box seating for ambassadors and Ministry officials. Guards on broomsticks hovered outside them like bees to a hive.

Looking around at the crowds, Lupin summed up that most were Ministry officials and their families, along with the students from Durmstrang, Beauxbatons and Hogwarts. He could differentiate between the three schools from the colored robes they wore: Beauxbatons had delicate pastel-colored silk robes, and Durmstrang donned massive wool robes with thick fur cloaks, while Hogwarts students were dressed in their own individual house colors, with most wearing their wizard hats as an extra boost of school spirit. 

Lupin luckily found a spot at the end of the sixth row and gratefully sat down, resting his tired legs. His position was somewhere in the middle of the bleachers, the perfect spot to view the first task. Glancing at the other students, he saw that many of them he still remembered as his former students. There was Neville Longbottom sitting only a few rows below him, and Seamus Finnigan sitting by Dean Thomas two rows above him. Draco Malfoy - a much-detested student of his - was over near the front, leaning over the guardrail, watching the dragon thrash about. 

"Excuse me, just passing through."

Lupin's observations were broken off by a girl with bushy brown hair standing in the aisle. He gasped, "Hermione!"

Hermione Granger gave him a perplexed look. "What did you say?"

Of course she couldn't recognize him, not in this disguise! Lupin quickly amended, "Oh my knee...! Um... Horrible rheumatism, miss. Simply terrible to deal with."

"Did I bump into you? I'm so sorry!" she apologized.

"No harm done." Lupin got to his feet so she could pass through. "Go ahead, miss. Sorry for blocking your way."

"Um, thanks." Hermione stepped past him to her seat, just five or six spots away from his. Ron Weasley was there too, saving a seat for her. Hermione seemed to forget about him as soon as she took her seat, thank goodness. Lupin chided himself on his carelessness. Remember, he wasn't Remus Lupin, former Hogwarts professor, but Jarohnen Ianikit, anonymous Russian wanderer.

Lupin contemplated what was he to do now that he was actually there. If something went wrong, could he jump in to save Harry? Well, at best he could Apparate the boy back. Maybe that would be enough. In actuality, however, Lupin realized that if he did attempt to do anything to save the boy, that would surely call attention to him, something that he could not afford, even in this disguise. However, he would be on standby, in case anything should occur.

What he really wanted to do, however, was talk with the boy. Having not having any contact with him over the past few months, Lupin wondered what Harry was up to. Surely he maintained correspondence with Sirius; Lupin knew from meeting up with his old friend during the summer. He felt a little hurt at the fact that Harry cut him off the moment he resigned from Hogwarts. He personally wondered whether it was an unconscious response to the fact that he was a werewolf. Maybe he could ask Harry that, when he had the chance.

In the center of the arena, a group of dragon keepers were setting up the task, hauling in a large, stick nest filled with a dozen or so eggs. All of them were a dull gray color, except one, which was a shiny golden hue. Then, the gates on the far side of the arena swung open. The roars grew louder as a formidable Swedish Short-Snout was hauled in. The crowd seemed to cried out in awe and wonder at the creature, their murmurs increasing as the dragon came into full view. Thick cables were wrapped around her scaly dark blue arms, legs and neck, and several dragon keepers were pulling on those cables to haul in the protesting beast, while others had their wands out ready to spot them. 

Lupin held his breath in wonder as well as the Swedish Short-Snout was guided to the nest and the ropes were untied. Despite his extensive knowledge about dragons, the appreciation of seeing the creature being introduced was not lost to him. 

Sniffing the nest curiously, the dragon's maternal instinct was triggered. She then sat down calmly over her clutch as if she always belonged there, hissing at the dragon keepers around her to stay away.

Was this the creature Harry had to face?

A whistle went off from the announcer's booth, and a hefty, blonde man dressed in yellow and black striped robes dashed out of the tent. Lupin couldn't see who exactly this person was, but a spectator next to him said in an excited hush, "Look, there's Ludo Bagman! It must be starting!"

Down below, Ludo picked up his wand, waved it over his throat (_Must be a Sonorus spell_, Lupin thought) and then announced in a booming voice, "Ladies and gentleman, I proudly welcome you all here today at the opening of the Triwizard Tournament!"

The crowd roared with wild anticipation as Bagman continued, "The First Task is a difficult one. Our four brave challengers will now face the daunting feat of snatching the golden egg!" He gestured to the place where the egg laid, nestled among its insipid-colored companions in the nest. At that precise moment, the Swedish Short-Snout let out another ferocious roar, adding to the moment. Many murmurs of awe and excitement came from the crowd.

"And now, may I welcome the first challenger, Hogwarts' own Cedric Diggory!!!"

A tall, handsome boy stepped out into the arena as the crowd burst out in its loudest roar of applause yet. Lupin covered his ears at the noise and looked down at the two figures. He wished he had a pair of Omniculars so he could have a better look, but settled for leaning forward in his seat and squinting.

Cedric sidestepped slowly parallel to the dragon and her clutch, as if trying to observe this situation properly. Or possibly he was just trying to steady his nerves. Nevertheless, after a few moments, Cedric brandished his wand, called out a command, and pointed to a small rock at the corner of the arena. A flash of reddish dust flew out and hit the stone with a blast. All attention was turned to the rock as it wiggled- it grew larger- it hopped up and down, changing form - then, _barked_. 

"What's this?" Bagman questioned. "Is Diggory using some sort of transfiguration spell to help him?"

Lupin blinked. Jarohnen certainly didn't have the best hearing in the world; he was a bit deaf. But couldn't everyone else see the rock suddenly sprouting legs and a tail...? It began running about, losing its blocky, hard form into a more animalistic shape.... 

"Rowf! Rowf!" cried the rock, which soon wasn't a rock any longer. A large chocolate-colored Labrador was in its place, running around and barking loudly. It froze in place and looked about the arena with a startled expression, as if it suddenly realized just what happened to it. Yet the shock wore off quickly. The Labrador glanced behind it and spotted its own tail. Smiling broadly, it barked and started chasing its rear end.

Some of the audience clapped in appreciation of the spell. The Swedish Short-Snout turned around to stare at where the noise was coming from, and a couple of dragon keepers waved their arms about, trying to keep her focused on the challenger.

"Very impressive Transfiguration!" Ludo complimented. "Very difficult level to attain, but he accomplished it rather well. Let's see what Diggory plans for the animal."

The dog stopped chasing its tail at the sight of Cedric and ran toward him happily, but the boy made shooing motions with his hands, trying to steer the dog away toward the dragon. Lupin took immediate offense that the boy was using trying to tempt the dragon with a Labrador. _A deer,_ he thought, _would have been much more effective. _

Despite the poor choice of prey, the dragon eyed the dog hungrily. 

"The dragon is preoccupied- is it going for it?" Ludo questioned. "Oh it looks like she might... The Short-Snout is eyeing the dog... eyeing the dog..."

The Swedish Short-Snout took a small step forward. The Labrador yipped in a panic and dashed away. Giving out a huff of bluish smoke, the dragon took another step away from the clutch.

"And she is!" Ludo exclaimed. "What a crafty way to lure a dragon - through its stomach!"

Lupin glanced over to where the announcer booth was below. Bagman's commentary was starting to get on his nerves.

"There the Short-Snout goes... Oh, hurry Diggory, over to the nest! Wait, there goes the dragon. And there goes Diggory. The Short-Snout... and Diggory... Diggory.... and the Short-Snout... One step at a time here folks- this might take awhile..."

On almost exaggerated tiptoe, Cedric crept toward the eggs. Each time the Swedish Short-Snout took a step away from the clutch, he took three steps closer to it. The crowds were silent, as if holding their breath as they watched. The only sound that was heard came from the poor Labrador, as it barked frantically while it ran alongside the walls of the enclosure, trying to find a way out.

Cedric almost got away with actually taking the egg. Less than twenty meters from his goal, however, when Cedric entered the dragon's fire range, the Swedish Short-Snout turned away from the dog, losing interest. Unfortunately, Cedric supervened as the new target.

"Rooooaaarrr!" The Swedish Short-Snout stomped back in place and whipped her tail out at Cedric. He stumbled back and froze, hoping that the dragon wouldn't see him as a threat.

From his spot in the announcer's booth, Ludo broke the spectator silence. "_Clever_ move - pity it didn't work!"

The Swedish Short-Snout snorted and puffed out a cloud of smoke, then sent in a blast of flame. The crowd gasped in unison as Cedric ran off, the flame missing him by less than two meters.

"Oooooh, narrow miss there, very narrow...!" Ludo commented as Cedric high-tailed it past the dog away from the dragon. Yet he didn't chicken out with this. As a stroke of luck, the Labrador rushed out of the way when Cedric passed and began running in the other direction (apparently the dog didn't possess much intelligence because of its stone origins). When the Swedish Short-Snout saw the dog rushing him, she screamed in anger and delivered another column of fire. The dog was enveloped in flame, and the entire audience groaned in disgust and horror as the animal died instantly. Lupin winced and felt pity for the wretched beast.

Yet the poor Labrador's death wasn't in vain, for Cedric took this distraction as a chance to bolt to the clutch at breakneck speed. 

"He's taking risks, this one!" Ludo shouted as Cedric made it to the nest and grabbed the egg. "Look at him go!"

The crowd cheered as soon as contact was made, yet this also called the dragon's attention to the eggs. Spotting Cedric so close by, she howled in rage and tried swiping at him with her stubby arms. Cedric bent his head low and wrapped his arms around the egg, preparing to run it out of the dragon's line of fire. The task simply became a race against time as the boy fled from the dragon's aim.

"Diggory's ahead-! get out of the range, boy!"

The dragon inhaled - 

Cedric was running desperately, in a quarterback position, egg tucked under one arm - 

The dragon opened his mouth, the smoke building up in her throat - 

"Diggory racing from the dragon! Ten meters, fifteen meters, twenty -" 

The Swedish Short-Snout yelled and fired with a _Whoooossssshhhh-_

The fire caught Cedric at an angle, hitting the side of his face. A mix is wild cheering and callings of concern erupted - the former for Cedric's triumph and the latter in response to his injury. As if appearing out of thin air, the dragon keepers were on the scene again to restrain the Swedish Short-Snout, throwing up the cables to bind her up again and shouting Stun spells. 

"Oooh, we have the first injury of the Tournament!" Bagman exclaimed, and Cedric stumbled and collapsed onto his knees. 

Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey rushed immediately to the field to help aid him. Cedric had his hands over his face and the dripping bright red blood could be seen from the stands. Several other wizards on standby waited a few yards around them, concerned looks on their faces.

"How is our Hogwart's Champion?" Bagman questioned. "Is he all right?"

From the field, Professor McGonagall was levitating Cedric onto a stretcher. Madame Pomfrey carefully examined the burn, then turned around and gave a thumbs-up to the announcer's booth. 

"And he's going to be okay, folks!" Ludo cheered. From either side of the bleachers, cheers and applause rang out to the injured Cedric as McGonagall and Pomfrey escorted him out of the enclosure. 

"Amazing! There you have it!" Bagman called proudly as Cedric disappeared out of the gates. "Very good indeed! And now the marks from the judges!"

The five judges sat at a long wooden table inside the announcer's booth, positioned so that the audience had a good view of them: Madame Maxine, Mr. Barty Crouch, Ludo Bagman, Dumbledore and Karkaroff. Lupin found it odd how Ludo could get away with being the announcer and a judge, but then again, he figured that the wizard had enough strings to pull to get anything. 

Madame Maxine was the first to present her score. The marks were one of out ten and a silver ribbon bloomed out from her wand to form an 8. Very good mark indeed, considering Cedric received an injury.

Next came Crouch- a seven.

Ludo had an about-face, his face turning grim as he proclaimed his score - another eight.

Dumbledore was the most generous of them all - a nine.

_But of course, with that Transfiguration,_ Lupin thought. _In less than a minute too. Something like that could be enough to impress McGonagall herself._

Karkaroff, however, was not impressed at all. A three.

Several boos from the crowd came at this judgment. However, Lupin watched quietly while down below, dragon keepers cleaned up the charred remains of the Labrador and removed the Swedish Short-Snout. He was half-impressed with Diggory's bravery and skill and half-impatient for Harry's turn. What dragon was he going to face? Only three choices were left: the Chinese Fireball, the Welsh Green, and the Hungarian Horntail. Lupin hoped it wasn't the Horntail. Harry was a capable wizard; Lupin taught him how to ward of Dementors once, not a simple feat. But it was going to take more than magic to outwit a dragon.

Soon, another expectant roar came as a Welsh Green was released into the arena. Like the dragon before her, the creature sniffed at the nest curiously before taking its place over the clutch. Lupin braced himself and prayed for the boy to get that one, but a Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons was the recipient of that. As she came out in a tense walk, Lupin crossed out that choice in his mind. Either the Horntail or the Fireball for Harry now. _Prey tell let it be the Fireball_, Lupin thought.

***

Mixed among the hoi polloi at the arena grounds, one man watched silently from his spot by the announcer's booth. Dressed inconspicuously in gray and black robes, he blended in with the shadows. Anyone passing by wouldn't give him a second glance. Yet that did not mean he was not of any importance. Quite the contrary, this man and his team was sent in by Cornelius Fudge to supervise the security at the Triwizard Tournament. His code name was Croaker.

Croaker scanned the crowds uneasily. He wanted magical detectors to be put up at every entrance of the arena to scan for any bad magic, whether it were spells or devices. However, Dumbledore had all-out refused to provide him with permission for such things, saying that the blood spell over Hogwarts and the recently hired ex-Auror made Hogwarts safe enough. Possibly because of that Dementor episode last year, the Headmaster had been cautious about sending out any additional protection lest it created unwanted attention and concern.

However, Croaker was furious with this. It was his job to make sure nothing during the tournament went wrong. Sure, Mad-Eye Moody was a nice investment to security, but anyone could admit that the man was paranoid as hell. Paranoia did not equal security; it equaled an old man's senile incompetence. Croaker had more than one reason to be nervous: if anything - _anything_ - went wrong during this event, he would be the one whose head goes on the Fudge's cutting board.

Taking survey of the packed bleachers, the Unspeakable estimated a crowd of at least 3000, quite large for such a small area. Yet this mass contained some of the most important dignitaries in all of England, in all of Europe even. Cornelius took a box seat at the highest spot, rooming with the political and social elite. The Deutsches from Vienna were also there, along with the Van Kelstroves from the Netherlands and several foreign ambassadors from Africa and the Far East. 

In fact, Croaker could calculate the appropriate position of all the spectators. All the celebrities should be in the box seats, which were in the upper quadrant of the bleachers, right hand side, with families below them. Students should be in the left side, mid to lower section. Right now, the crowds were packed, and Croaker scanned his eyes constantly along the teeming mass, Omniculars in hand. Maybe he was pulling a Moody here, turning paranoid... but... wait, what was that...?

Focusing at the audience he pointed out the view mid-way up the bleachers. Who was that? A man sitting in the student-appointed section of the audience! How could that be? Did he made a mistake? Maybe he was part of the dignitaries or a family member gone astray... 

Zooming in on the person, the Unspeakable saw the white-haired old man. He clicked on the tagging feature on the side of the Omniculars. All the important political and social celebrities were marked with special VIP auras, and citizens were similarly marked. This should detect the status of this stranger.

The Omniculars buzzed slightly as a miniature screen popped up in the viewer. A flashing bar raced down a list of the VIPs and their families, trying to find a matching aura for that stranger. After a few moments, the bar came to the end of the list, blinking rapidly and giving a low _beep beep_. A sign appeared, saying in block lettering: NO MATCH FOUND.

Croaker's innate sense of danger increased. He then used the Aura Identifier to pin-point what magical aura this creature had. Certain colors indicated whether it was a wizard or otherwise. No color meant that he was a Muggle. That was something Croaker did not want to see.

However, this man did have an aura. That of a Dark Creature. A registered werewolf. 

The little warning bell went haywire in Croaker's head. The werewolf was a danger to the safety here at Hogwarts. Any werewolf was up to no good. Who knows - maybe the monster wanted to go on a rampage here. Should he have one of his people go after him? Maybe he should wait for the werewolf to make the first move.

Croaker put a hand to his ear. A Liaison Charm was put over his ears, so that he could maintain contact with all the other members of his group. Whispering softly, he said, "Code Yellow. Spot a suspicious person in the bleachers. Left-hand side, six rows up, end seat. Over."

A moment later, tiny voice responded in his ear. "Jaguar here. Message received. Describe the suspect. Over."

"Short, thin man about 80 or more years old. He's not an identified Ministry member, dignitary, or faculty member at Hogwarts. Have a suspicion that he is a registered werewolf. Over."

"I'll take a shot and have the standby confirm the ID."

"Exactly. Bring your findings to me ASAP. Over."

"Order confirmed. Over and out."

***

Lupin watched as the girl in the enclosure faced her challenge. Down below, Fleur Delacour stood stock still, looking at the Welsh Green in the eye. The dragon returned her stare with eyes filled with distrust. Taking out her wand, she raised it over her head as if to fire a vicious curse. Yet instead, she began to sway softly back and forth, first with her arms, then flowing downward until her body was gently rocking. Waving the wand slowly above her head, Fleur murmured unheard words to the dragon. Her body moved to the mysterious rhythm of her spell, and with her arm upraised and her hips swaying, she resembled an Indian belly dancer.

"It seems like Fleur is attempting some kind of.... of... of...." Ludo's commentary trailed to a halt as Fleur arched her back and kicked her leg up overhead. She then straightened herself and twirled around, letting the wind play with her skirt. Her long legs were easily seen as the wind rode up the dress, revealing much more than a school uniform should. She put a hand behind her and arched her back, waving the wand about in the air in front of her. 

Staring rigidly, the Welsh Green watched her actions with a guarded disposition. However, as Fleur's dance continued, her gaze slowly began to soften and droop and glaze over. The dragon began moving her head back and forth in unison to Fleur's movements as the girl wove her spell with mesmerizing skill.

Back at the bleachers, the eyes of the male audience started to glaze over as well. Ministry members and students alike leaned forward in their seat, and those lucky enough to have Omniculars had to fight with others to keep their advantage. 

In his own seat, Lupin stared at the girl as she continued conducting her charm. He couldn't keep her eyes off her. The way her hips moved slowly back and forth and the grace of her wand hand as it moved casually through the air. The way that the sunlight shone down her, making Fleur appear to be Aphrodite herself. Oh, and not to mention the nice view from behind-

He snapped out of his attraction. God, he was a good twenty years older than her! Nearly seventy in this body! To take his eyes of the girl, Lupin took out his canteen and drank another sip of the Polyjuice Potion. The potion plagued his mouth with its horrible taste and kept his mind off prurient thoughts involving the Beauxbaton student. Certainly, with the way she drew the male crowd, it was almost like Fleur was part veela or something.... 

In the aisle, a woman in tan robes walked past him. The bleachers were crowded and she tripped upon a step. With a sharp gasp, she fell forward, dropping her purse.

"Whoa!" Lupin got up and caught the crook of her arm before she fell. "Ma'am are you okay?" he asked.

The woman looked at him square in a eye for a moment or two with a blank face, then smiled. "Of course, sir," she said. "Thank you very much." She leaned down to get her bag.

"Here, let me," Lupin snatched the purse strap and handed it back to the woman. She smiled at him and moved her way up to a higher seat. Lupins settled back down to watch Fleur continue with her dance in the arena. 

Meanwhile, the woman did a roundabout turn and descended the steps, as she took the small, automated camera out of her purse. Putting a hand to her ear, she whispered, "Received photo of suspect. Will send to standby for ID confirmation. Over."

"Good work, Jaguar," came the reply.

***

Much to everyone's dismay, Fleur's task was coming to an end all too soon. The Welsh Green was easily put to sleep by her charm. Fleur snuck over to the dragon's clutch of eggs and grabbed at the golden one. Holding it protectively in her arms, she turned around and began heading back. The audience was on the verge of giving uproarious approval at her cunning strategy (especially members of the male persuasion), but since the dragon fell asleep, a silence descended upon the crowd. Everyone had enough sense never to wake a sleeping dragon.

Fleur walked faster, confident that her task was over. However, the dragon suddenly shifted out from behind her, exhaling a puff of black smoke. Enveloped by the dark cloud, the French schoolgirl coughed loudly. At the sudden noise, the dragon moved her head slightly-

The crowd held its breath. Fleur froze in place, a dainty hand over her mouth.

The dragon rolled her head towards her.

Fleur looked back ever so slowly at the sleeping dragon. The beast twitched again. She didn't dare to move a muscle in response. She paled significantly as the Welsh Green's reptilian eyelid fluttered. Was it going to wake up? Was she going to get caught? Was she going to face the animal's rage, caught directly in its line of fire?

Someone from the audience cried up a stifled gasp that was quickly shushed by the rest of the populace. That small sound and the dragon blinked open her eyes-

Fleur had her head bowed and was muttering something under her breath. Her free hand touched her shoulders and forehead, making a shaky Sign of the Cross. 

The yellow-gold eyes flickered open and the giant reptile stared directly at Fleur. A moment of silence passed.

No one moved. Not Fleur, not the Welsh Green, not Lupin or any other single audience member.

No one.

Smacking her lips languidly, the dragon luxuriously stretched out her jaws, revealing the rows of sharp, ash-tinged teeth. The yawn of a mighty beast echoed throughout the enclosure. Then, she gave Fleur a sleepy glance, before curling up tightly over the nest and closing her eyes. Soon, only the steady inhale-exhale sound of breathing was heard. The Welsh Green did not awaken.

In relief, Fleur gave an effusive sigh. She wiped a hand across her brow and turned back around.

"Pfffffffzzzzzzzzz..................."

The dragon snored, shooting a jet of fire from her partially opened lips.

"AHHHH!"

Fleur leaped back, the hem of her skirt aflame. 

At that same second, the eyes of the Welsh Green snapped open. 

"ROOAAAAARRRRRRRR!!!" The Welsh Green lifted its head toward the sky, raising a spurt of flashing red and orange flame that engulfed the sky. In anger, the dragon heaved the burst of flames directly at Fleur. 

The girl dropped to the ground as the orange and red blooms flew over her head toward the bleachers behind her. With a quick sweep of her wand, Fleur put the flame out of her skirt with a jet of water and desperately started crawling along the dirt. The dragon charged foreword on gnarled claws, bellowing fiercely. 

Bagman, now jerked out of his previous reverie, shouted in warning, "Watch out! Duck your heads!"

The flames couldn't reach the audience, but a hot wave of air showered the crowd. Some of the lady spectators near the front screamed and several others fainted in their seats. The horizontal wind hit the left set of bleachers and Lupin ducked down in his seat, covering his head with the collar of his robes as the heat past him. He lifted his head cautiously once the threat was past and put a hand to the top of his head. Safe, but his clothes stank of sulfur and bad breath. 

"Oh... nearly got her! Careful now... good lord I thought she had it then!" Ludo exclaimed as the girl made her way on hands and knees away from the thrashing Welsh Green. 

The dragon keepers ran into the arena to control the situation. A red-haired man shouted out commands, obviously the leader of this round-up group. "_FINITE INFERNO!!!!_ Stun her!" he shouted, lifting his wand over his head. "Get the cables!"

"Right Charlie!" Another man called and at that moment, several of the dragon keepers flourished their wands and shouted, "_Stupefy_!" 

Both spells hit the beast in succession. The Welsh Green teetered back, weakened by the onslaught of magic. She attempted to rise to her feet to attack the Keepers, but then a glazed look came over her silted eyes. The dragon wobbled and fell back down.

"That's it!" yelled Charlie, wand arm still upraised. "One more time!"

Another chorus of shouts from the arena. "_STUPEFY!_"

At the second hit, the Green Welsh's eyes rolled upwards and a monstrous groan escaped from her lips. Then, the beast's fell limply to the ground with a heavy _thump_, fire extinguished. 

The audience was dead silent for a single second, shocked at the sudden turn of events. Yet after that, it rose up like some monolithic mass and screamed out in joy and excitement. Fleur was still on the ground and with trembling legs, rose to her feet. 

Madame Maxine, the Beauxbatons headmaster, ran out into the arena over to Fleur, her face the color of parchment. Shouting rapidly in French, the teacher wrapped an arm around the schoolgirl's shoulders and rushed her out of there. 

Still, Ludo showered the girl with praise at her attempt. "What an extraordinary, wonderfully apt way to subdue a dragon!" he cried. "Marvelous charm done by Fleur! I've seen techniques like this done by the fire serpent charmers of Northern India, but never used within such parameters!"

The crowd continued their frenzy, the men more so than the women. Even Lupin found himself standing up and applauding. A minority, however were still flustered with the close call involving the dragon, which Charlie and his keepers were now in the middle of restraining. Several medical witches and wizards attended to those spectators who had fainted, equipped smelling salts and Awakening Charms.

"And let's not forget to take the time to congratulate the unsung heroes of today's challenge," Ludo added respectfully. "Everyone give a hand to the official Triwizard Tournament Dragon Keepers, straight from Romania, Charlie Weasley and the RMC Dragon Maintenance Crew!"

Charlie waved his wand at the surrounding masses and gave a sweeping bow before helping to haul the now-stunned Welsh Green out of the arena. Out of the corner of his eye, Lupin noticed that Ron was beaming proudly at her older brother, shouting, "Go, Charlie!!" 

When Fleur's scores were presented, the judges did not seem half as critical as they were with Cedric. Two nines and two eights. Fleur's dance even pleased Karkaroff - a four. At least that was better than Cedric's score.

The dragon keepers reacted more efficiently to the deserved ovation and sped up their work so that the next task. With proud skill, the keepers herded out the third dragon, the Chinese Fireball. The creature's shiny, orange-gold scales shown in the sunlight as the dragon snaked her way into the arena. She circled the arena twice, her large, goggle-eyes absorbing the scene around it. 

Getting an eyeful of the creature, everyone anticipated some more dangerous action. Surely this dragon had just as much potential as the Welsh Green - why was it called the Chinese Fireball if this wasn't so? With eager eyes the people waited for the dragon to do something extravagant, like claim its territory with a mighty roar or even test out its fire capacity with a puff or two.

Yet this creature seemed the most passive out of all the dragons so far. After investigating the boundaries of the enclosure, she simply curled up around the clutch of eggs as if she knew exactly what she had to do. The Chinese Fireball yawned lazily, unhinging those stout jaws to reveal tiny rows of needle teeth. Hissing out a forked tongue, the Chinese Fireball blinked her eyes tiredly. She did not appear to be a formidable challenge. 

Nevertheless, Bagman tried to hype up the atmosphere. 

"And here comes Mr. Krum!" he burst out enthusiastically. 

The stern-faced boy stepped out into the arena with a cool, lazy stride. He was the first to acknowledge the crowd and gave a solemn bow to the masses on either side of him. Krum was used to facing challenges with an audience; he was a professional athlete after all. With that ever-constant serious manner, he faced the Chinese Fireball, who didn't give him an ounce of attention. Krum waited a few minutes like the others had done, then approached the dragon cautiously.

However, the beast's reaction wasn't extraordinary. In fact, she was rather docile. The dragon didn't even become defensive about the intruder's coming. The Chinese Fireball gave Krum a passing glance before tucking her head into the serpentine coils and closing her eyes. Afterwards, the creature didn't move at all, except for the rise and fall of her breath. Krum stood there, stunned. He took another step foreword, and then another, trying to stir up some response. Yet the dragon remained immobile on top of the clutch.

The audience murmured to themselves. "It appears that the Fireball isn't concerned with our champion," Ludo noticed. "Can this fierce creature actually be-?"

A loud snore broke into the air, confirming those thoughts. The Chinese Fireball had entered the enclosure with such high expectations only to fall fast asleep. 

A disappointed feeling swept through the audience. After all the excitement with Fleur and the Welsh Green, everyone thought that the Chinese Fireball was going to be ten times worse. Apparently, Krum received the easiest of the four monsters.

Yet Krum barely took a fourth step forward when the Fireball grunted and turned her streamlined head toward him. She emitted a deep growl from the back of her throat and did what no other dragon had done so far: she slithered her way off the nest to face her enemy. With her many legs, the Chinese Fireball moved like a centipede with lightning speed to form a circle around Krum.

"What is this now?" Bagman wondered. "Looks like the Fireball is the one to make the first move."

Krum backed away in surprise at the Fireball's initiative and found himself with the dragon's snout in his face. Whirling on his heel, he saw that the dragon had boxed him in, using its long body to set up an enclosure around him.

"The Chinese Fireball is a more forward creature than most," Ludo informed the audience. "Instead of defending the nest, Fireballs are known to outright attack the immediate enemy."

_What an opportune time to tell Krum,_ Lupin thought dryly. He already knew that about the Chinese Fireball, but also knew that these Asian creatures had one disastrous weak spot. The Chinese Fireball's eyes were extremely sensitive; he wondered if Krum was aware of that as well.

Within the arena, the Fireball moved her head toward Krum, the black smoke curling from her nostrils. Yet Krum stood his ground. The Fireball's head tilted to the side, blinking those large eyes rapidly in front of Krum. She was so close that Krum's dark bangs moved every time the dragon took a breath. However, with his usual stolid disposition, Krum did not make a single move. He had a courageous air about him, but most likely he did not want to provoke an attack.

"The Fireball has Krum completely surrounded," Ludo said in a loud whisper. "What will the Durmstrang challenger do now?"

With her scaly form totally surrounding Krum, the Fireball moved her versatile tail about from behind him back. Krum sensed this and gripped onto his wand tightly. A deep rumble grew from the back of the Chinese Fireball's throat and quicker than lightning, the beast's tail whipped forward and wrapped around Krum's wand arm. Krum cried out as his arm was jerked from behind him.

"Krum is being directly attacked by the Fireball!" Bagman announced. "What a sly creature!"

Krum tried pulling his arm away from the beast, and the Fireball reared her head forward, snapping her jaws. Krum jumped off the ground to avoid the needle teeth, using his trapped arm as a support. The Fireball, however took advantage of this and used his momentum to throw Krum into the air.

Helpless, Krum sky-rocketed ten feet straight up before plummeting toward the ground.

"Krum is launched into the air!" Ludo witnessed. "What a throw by the Fireball....! Wait, Krum waves his wand to check the fall... and he lands unharmed!"

Getting up to his feet, Krum realized that he had landed on the other side of the arena. The Chinese Fireball lifted her head up to give a rueful lizard grin, waving her tail as if saying farewell. 

However, the boy did something entirely unexpected. He raised his wand straight ahead of him and in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the stadium, he commanded, "_Irritoculus_!" 

The spell shot out like a bullet and hit the Chinese Fireball straight at those bulging eyes.

"Very daring!" Ludo managed to interject before the dragon screamed.

"ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGG!!!" The Fireball's head snapped back and forth, the eyes of the beast starting to water large, salty tears. Stomping, her body writhed and shook, the many legs pounding on the ground. Krum dived between those tree-trunk legs and horned feet - one giant foot pounded upon the ground right by Krum's left arm - Krum was struggling, bolting between the feet of the Fireball to get to the nest - he was moving, moving faster than even Cedric had - 

"That's some nerve he's showing - and - yes, he's got the egg!"

_Crush!_

Krum backed away from the clutch as several eggs were squashed from under the Fireball's feet. Sticky yellowish goo dripped out of the nest and onto the ground. The dragon didn't pay heed to the mess on her talons; she was still shaking her head, sniffing grievously.

"Krum is going to lose points for that!" Bagman said as the Chinese Fireball stumbled in a different direction, wailing in a pitiful voice. Charlie and another dragon keeper reined in the sad creature, cooing softly as the beast continued her crying.

"And nice work for Viktor Krum, Durmstrang champion!" Ludo ended cheerfully. "Now let's hear the scores!"

***

Croaker held the stiff piece of parchment in his fist. The sighting had been confirmed. Yes, it was a registered werewolf. Jarohnen Ianikit, last remaining member of the northern Russian clan, number 176. Only remaining survivor of clan genocide. 

"ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGG!!!"

Croaker's head snapped up to see the Chinese Fireball bay out in pain.

Dumb arrogant creature. Croaker had worked in the RMC during his early years with dragons in China - those brutes always acted like big shots but were truly crybabies at heart.

He then turned back to the paper at hand. Why would the werewolf have any interest in wizard event? These creatures usually shied away from contact with wizards of any kind, unless it was to initiate a violent attack. It was a known fact that werewolves lived to rampage and kill. They were not even human anyway; they were beasts.

Croaker put a hand to his ear. "Jaguar?"

"Here."

"Take my place at station two. I want to keep tabs on our werewolf."

"Check that, Croaker. Over and out."

*** 

The judges' scores were rather high, maybe because Karkaroff gave his challenger a decent score. Obviously a sign of favoritism, but no one commented about that. Except Bagman of course.

"Karkaroff gave Krum a nine - he must be very impressed," the announcer said shortly, trying to cover up the bitterness in his voice. Bagman himself had given Krum a seven. Yet Krum was put in the lead with a total of forty points.

Concern about the scores went entirely over Lupin's head. All he could think about was the fact that the other challengers' tasks were over. Harry was next. He half-got up from his seat to look at the yellow tent over near the enclosure entrance. There was a light in the tent, revealing a single pacing silhouette. Poor boy.

Lupin shook his head. Harry can do it, of course. He was James' son; he had to. On the other hand, there was possibly a saboteur here on Hogwarts' grounds. But even if there was someone after Harry, he probably already accomplished the feat of treachery. After all, Harry was left with the most ferocious dragon of them all: the Hungarian Horntail. With a vicious tempter, the strongest fire-breathing capabilities and a tail covered with massive, three-foot spikes, it was the worst of the lot. 

Maybe Sirius was only trying to tell Harry how to defeat the Horntail. It must had been a reasonable fear Black could have for the boy wizard. There were certain maneuvers that could conquer the dragon. Distracting it would be the most ideal way; that was what Cedric had attempted earlier with the Labrador. But would Harry know what to do? 

Lupin checked his watch. In the field, the dragon keepers were still cleaning up the broken eggs and replacing them with new ones. There was a good five minutes, he reasoned, before Harry's challenge begins. So there was still time, if Lupin hurried. Maybe he could reach the tent, get past the guards, talk to Harry quickly; Harry didn't have to know it was him, and surely he would take his advice-

The idea died in a second. Too idealistic. Lupin saw the tight security measures around the Champions' tent and he knew well that he couldn't risk it. But, suppose he did....

Dear God, was he actually feeling nervous for the boy? Yes. 

Yet what Lupin had to tell Harry afterwards caused the most apprehension. Sirius.... God, Lupin didn't even want to think about it. If he could, he would make he way himself to Azkaban to free his friend, but now may be too late. Lupin sighed and put his head in his hands, running them through Jarohnen's white hair. 

Three rows above him, a man wearing black and gray robes sat down and folded his hands in his lap. He peered down at the suspect through hooded eyes. _Just wait_, Croaker coached himself, _and let the werewolf make the first move. _

Overhead, Ludo's voice rang out excitedly. "And now, here comes the young man we've all been waiting for!" 

Everyone calmed down from the thrill of Krum's performance and eagerly settled in their seats. Lupin scanned the crowds again. On either side of him was a sea of still, expectant faces. Half a row away, Ron and Hermione glanced up from their conversation at Ludo's call. Ron was tight-lipped and silent, turning away from the arena, arms crossed. Hermione, however, whispered something to him in a frustrated tone and leaned foreword, a pair of Omniculars to her eyes. Certainly past three challengers were exciting to say the least, but the most anticipated part of the First Task was just about to begin. Those two were just as worried about Harry as Lupin was.

In the booth, Bagman was practically jumping out of his chair, hardly able to contain his excitement. "Last, but certainly not least, the second champion from Hogwarts - the unexpected fourth contestant in this Triwizard Tournament - the one and only - Harry Potter!"


	7. Runaway

For disclaimer and additional notes see part 1.

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Seven: Runaway

by D.M.P.

***

Wilt thou forgive that sin, where I begun,

Which is my sin, though it was done before?

Wilt thou forgive those sins through which I run

And do them still, though still I deplore?

When thou hast done, thou hast not done,

        For I have more.

-John Donne, _Hymn to God the Father_

***

Chapter 25

He didn't come at Ludo's announcement. The crowd clamored, yet entrance to the enclosure remained empty. Ludo made a show of clearing his throat and repeating again in a louder voice, "May we present Harry Potter!"

A few seconds passed and when the young wizard still didn't show his face, the audience started murmuring to itself. Where was Harry?

From the stands, Lupin got up from his seat and checked in the direction of the yellow tent. Many others around him did the same. Did the boy chicken out of the event? No, he couldn't have, though no one would doubt that the boy possessed a reason to. Lupin would be highly disappointed if he did.

In the arena, the Hungarian Horntail was already on her clutch, gazing out at the stands with bitter distaste. Being the most ornery of the dragons, she was obviously disgusted at the invasion of her privacy. Flicking her spiked tail about, she grunted to herself and planted her body more firmly on top of her nest.

Ludo gave a call in the form of a whistle blow. Finally the tent flap was raised and the boy poked his head out.

Around him, the audience clapped loudly as Harry stepped out into the arena. Down in the enclosure, the Hungarian Horntail stared directly at her opponent. A low raspy growl emitted from her throat.

Lupin folded Jarohnen's hands across his lap and sighed. There he was. Harry remained almost unchanged since Lupin had last saw him, but still the boy's presence struck him dumb. It had always been a shock that Lupin had never been able to cope with - how much Harry resembled his father.

Harry stared straight ahead, ignoring the crowd. Quite a difficult feat, since they were all screaming at the top of their lungs. A couple even chanted, "Harry! Harry! Harry!" from the stands. Lupin glanced over to see who they were. Colin Creevey and a smaller boy that must have been his brother were standing on their seats. Both were waving large signs which read in block lettering, "HARRY POTTER = HOGWARTS #1 CHAMPION!"

Focusing intensely, Harry stiffly raised his wand. The crowd was instantly silenced. And in a voice louder than Krum's had been, he commanded, "_Accio Firebolt!_"

A wave of excited whispers rushed through the crowd. Harry was doing something none of the other champions had done: he was summoning something _outside_ of the enclosure to aid him. The idea was so original, so ingenious! 

Lupin's nervousness was instantly washed away. Harry knew what he was doing. He'll make it.

The boy remained rigid with his wand arm in the air. It was as if he was praying for the broomstick to come, hoping that the spell worked....

Finally, after those few anxious moments, a faint _zoommm_ was heard, as something thin and swift cut through the air. From the edge of the woods, the Firebolt was a faint slash of dark brown - then it grew larger - everyone gasped at the appearance of such an beautifully crafted broom - and the Firebolt made a dead stop beside Harry. Swinging a leg over, Harry straddled the broom and kicked off the ground. Soon, he was high in the air, the wind blowing against his robes and tousling his hair.

Flying higher and higher, the boy seemed to vanish in the sky. He was minuscule - smaller than a pinpoint. Audience members rose to their feet and put their Omniculars to their eyes, straining to see where the young wizard was. Lupin remained seated, but had his head upraised.

Then, quicker than lightning, the boy dove. And it was more than just a dip to the ground; this was racing toward the earth, a dive-bomb with the agility of a dying phoenix. The crowd gaped in awe. The Hungarian Horntail watched the oncoming wizard intently and released a sudden burst of orange and gold flame. Harry swerved, missing the fire by mere yards.

A hushed murmur whispered through the audience as the boy grew nearer; some of the front seaters shrieked aloud. Bagman was jumping from his chair, shouting with amazement, "Great Scott, he can fly! Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Trying another tactic, Harry was now flying in circles, attempting to confuse the Horntail. The spectators were moving their eyes to follow Harry's dizzying moves, and Lupin felt his heart jump. He remembered another young boy who did a similar move during a Quidditch match years and years ago...

The Horntail drew her head back to breathe fire again, and Harry ducked - only to meet up with the dragon's spiked tail. It whipped about and caught him in the shoulder. The crowd groaned as Harry flew off, his course teetering, but then he regained his balance. The wizard was safe.

As Harry kept distracting the Horntail, vivid memories couldn't help but push into Lupin's mind. Harry had the same exactly flying style as James. The way he crouched low on his broom just right before a dive, the way he leaned toward the his left just a bit while steering, the way he made those spilt-second swerves - it seemed as if a bit of James had come to life within him. It was almost too much for Lupin to watch the boy and be reminded of James. That was why he mostly avoided Quidditch games when he taught at Hogwarts. Once he had found out Harry was on the Gryffindor team, he stayed away the field as if it was contaminated with the plague. He only attended at single game, and was instantly blown away when Harry performed the Expecto Patronum. But his flying skill now was better than Lupin had ever seen...

The boy turned around again, trying to motivate the Horntail to rise from the clutch... he tempted the dragon by flying just close enough yet still out of reach....

"Look at him go!" Bagman was yelling at the top of his lungs. "The Horntail is hesitating... The beast is preparing to take off.... Is she going for it? Is she? Is she??" 

Harry rose higher and higher, daring the dragon to catch him. The Horntail was hesitating beneath him, caught between the struggle of leaving the nest or pursuing the enemy.

"I have never seen anyone fly like this before!" Ludo cried gleefully. 

Yet Lupin had. In his mind, the boy hovering in the air was changed by memory's hand to his predecessor. The dragon wasn't a dragon any longer, but Gryffindors battling it out with the green-robed Slytherins. Lupin wasn't in a crowd of strangers, but with his friends, Sirius by his side and Lily sitting behind them...

_The wind was warm and balmy as it blew across the Quidditch field. A blue, cloudless sky graced overhead, and Lupin had a hand over his eyes to shade them from the sun. The Quidditch match was in medias res, with the Slytherins far ahead of their opponents._

_"Potter grabs the Quaffle... he's heading up the field..." The announcer's voice was growing tense with excitement. "Faulkner is at his tail, James does a quick turn - oh, too bad you missed him Daryl! The Gryffindor Seeker is hunting for the Snitch... yet the score is 20-170, and if she gets it too soon, the Gryffindor will still lose the match!"_

_Sirius turned in his seat to face his friends. "Remember our bets, gentlemen?" he asked coolly._

_Lily rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you guys. Wasting your money on a stupid game."_

_"What?" Peter defended. "It's only a little friendly gentleman's wager. Isn't it, Moony?"_

_Lupin was silent, keeping his eye on the game. Holding a thick notebook in his hands, he carefully went over the set of odds in his head. Take the StarShooter, plus Slytherin winning chances...._

_"Hey," Black tapped him on the shoulder. "How goes the match, my bookie?"_

_"Well, we did have a four out of five chance of losing..." Lupin muttered. Flipping through the pages of the large, cluttered notebook, he put the tip of his quill to his lips in concentration. "Gryffindor's the underdog here, especially since Malfoy got that new StarShooter 200..." Inside contained little rows and columns of numbers. Betting wages, probability charts, team stats. These were only "gentleman's wagers" of course, but still at every Quidditch game, Lupin managed to take bets for half the school. It was a simple, lucrative hobby; last game he earned 50 Galleons when Hufflepuff beat out Ravenclaw._

_Sirius scoffed. "Malfoy may be Slytherin Seeker, but our Cynthia is ten times better."_

_"He's been looking to end this game since Slytherin first scored," Lupin pointed out. "They're looking to finish it quick while they still can."_

_On the field, Lucius Malfoy hovered over the ground on the prowl. Cynthia wasn't far behind and the two trailed each other, trying not to let the other Seeker find the Snitch. Above them, the Quidditch players zoomed and darted about. _

_The announcer boomed overhead. "Now Slytherin has the Quaffle; Potter tries to take it away. Both Goyle and Potter head to head, but- oh!"_

_Goyle's back leg kicked out, trying to hit James in the face. He missed, but the kick threw James off-balance, and he plummeted toward the ground. _

_"That asshole!" Lily jumped to her feet and put her hands around her mouth. "FOUL! That was a foul!!!"_

_James pulled up his CometChaser hastily, and rose back into the air, much to the Gryffindors' relief._

_A young Madame Hooch blew the whistle to call the game to a halt. However, the Slytherin captain protested loudly. "He didn't hit him! Gryffindors don't get a shot!"_

_"Well, Slytherin's going to win this easy," Peter pointed out. All the Slytherins hovered in the air around Hooch, complaining loudly. The Gryffindors were off by themselves, with the captain asking James if he was all right. He nodded, then looked over his shoulder to wave at his friends._

_"That why I bet on Slytherin," Peter pointed out. "They've won every game this season. It's only logical."_

_Sirius glared at the stout boy out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't the first time that Peter's logic got on his nerves. "I'm sure we'll score a Quaffle," he said optimistically. "Then Cynthia can catch the Snitch. That's all there is to it." _

_Now it was Peter's turn to scoff. "Fat chance of that happening."_

_"Guys look!" Lupin interjected. The game had started up again, with no foul declared against the Slytherin team. However, James had possession of the Quaffle and was racing down the field._

_"Potter has the ball- Thompson hits a Bludger his way. Oh, close one, James, watch out! Wait, there's commotion down at the south end...!"_

_Lucius Malfoy suddenly darted out toward the opposite end, riding low on his broomstick. Cynthia tailed him, both of them heading toward the Slytherin goalposts along with James. _

_"It looks like a mad dash!" the announcer shouted. "Samson and Malfoy going for the Snitch. Potter going for the goal. Goyle, Thompson, Faulkner, each after Potter. Chaser, Seekers, and Beaters - all tearing up the field, people! A marathon to the finish!"_

_James had the Quaffle tucked tightly underneath one arm. Seeing the trio trailing him from behind, he steered his broom to the halt. Amazed, the others did as well, lest they crashed into each other. James then went completely vertical, flying straight up into the air._

_"What in the world is Potter doing??" the announcer questioned. "He's turning circles!"_

_Indeed he was. With agility that was beyond all the other players combined, James led his pursuers astray, turning round and round in loose circles. The three tried to triangulate and then box the Chaser in, but James always zoomed out of their range just in time._

_"Potter escapes Faulkner's grasp! Goyle flies ahead - look out Potter!"_

_James was close to the goal posts, just a dozen yards away. He raised his hand to throw the Quaffle toward the hoop-_

_Thompson raised his club arm to hit a speeding Bludger his way- _

_The Slytherin Keeper dashed in between to intercept James' throw -_

_Cynthia dive-bombed toward the ground - _

_The Bludger flew from Thompson's club with a loud _smack_-_

_Lucius grabbed the back of Samson's broom and pushed her out of the way - _

_The crowd groaned aloud. _

_"Rich bastard! FOUL!" Sirius yelled._

_Lily screamed, "James, you can do it!"_

_James turned his head - _

_Faulkner zoomed in to steal the Quaffle from his grasp- _

_"Potter throws in the Quaffle! Samson swoops down upon the Snitch, followed by Malfoy! Here it comes folks!"_

_The Quaffle became air-born, leaving James' hands just as Goyle crashed into him-_

_The Keeper sprung upon the red ball-_

_Thompson's Bludger came soaring toward the Keeper and the Quaffle, just where James was, ricocheting off the Slytherin's head-_

_James spun through the air, tangled up with Goyle-_

_The Quaffle soared through the Slytherin hoop-_

_The Slytherin Keeper fell like a stone to the ground- _

_Lucius moved out of the way of the falling team captain-_

_Cynthia scooped something in her hand and was steering her broom upwards, screaming hysterically with her arm upraised-_

_The announcer. "DOUBLE SCORE!!! Potter dunks a Quaffle and Samson catches the Snitch!! GAME OVER!! GRIFFYNDORS WIN!! ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY TO ONE SEVENTY!! GRYFFINDORS WIN!!!"_

_One tidal wave of sound and color rose from the bleachers as banners were waved, shouts of joy were cried, and the Gryffindors ran out into the field. James sailed over the crowds on his broomstick, a wild whoop escaping his lips. In the stands, Sirius was pumping his fist into the air. "I knew it! I knew it!" Lily was clapping her hands together wildly, screaming at the top of her lungs, then in her excitement threw her arms around Lupin. Peter was still seated, fuming to himself._

_All around them, the noise level increased with wild fury. Amid the cheering fan, Sirius poked Peter in the shoulder. "How much does Wormtail owe us, Moony?" he grinned._

_Lupin checked the stats. "I believe," he said loftily, "the total amount calculates to fifty-five Galleons, twenty-four Sickles, and three Knuts."_

_Peter had his arms crossed, fuming. "I can't believe it," he muttered. "The odds looked so in favor for Slytherin..."_

_"Well, deal with it," Sirius grinned. "James is one hell of a flyer. It's only _logical_, Peter, that he'd figure out a way to win."_

_The wind blew again, except that it was cooler this time and filled with dust. And a loud inhuman cry accompanied it-_

"RROOOAAAARRRRR!!!"

Lupin was plunged back into reality, as the Horntail flapped those giant, black, leathery wings. The back draft sent a swirl of dust and air toward the crowds, and the audience coughed and spluttered, putting the sleeves of their robes over their mouths. Harry was still moving back and forth right above her, dipping down and rising up as he played the dragon.

"Looks like the Horntail is taking the lure!" Bagman cried. "She's flapping - look at that wingspan, folks! She's rising to the air-"

As soon as the Hungarian Horntail raised her front legs, Harry saw his chance. Like an eagle fixed upon his prey, the boy wizard dove toward the ground to the small opening. The boy was a blur through the air - he darted between the dragon's legs - the Horntail looked confused for a moment, then roared in anger as she tilted her head to look down at her feet. By then it was too late for the dragon to do anything. 

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

Lupin was up on his feet and for a moment, and was caught up in a feeling of déja-vu as Harry soared over the stands, the golden egg tucked under his arm. 

"That's it, Harry!" he yelled up from the crowd, not caring that Harry probably wouldn't notice him from the hundreds of others there. The only feeling he felt was a confusing parallel between Harry and James. At this time and place, the two became one, and Lupin cheered for a dead friend and his living son. "Wonderful job, absolutely wonderful!"

The dragon keepers came foreword to take care of the Horntail. Meanwhile, the crowd became the roaring mass of praise, as the people reacted to the last of the four champions. Lupin took note that Hermione threw her arms around Ron and was laughing so hard that tears stung her eyes. Then, the two jumped from their seats. Hermione, holding Ron by the hand, ran past Lupin and down the grandstands, headfirst toward Harry on the field. 

_Leaving early_, Lupin noted. Good idea. Surely if he left with the other spectators, he might get caught up in the masses and wouldn't be able to find Harry. _I'll follow them,_ he reasoned, getting up from his seat. Surely Harry and his friends would wait until his score was announced, and Lupin would confront him then in the inconspicuous crowd. 

Checking his watch, he took note of the time. He was still in disguise as Jarohnen Ianikit of course, and he took the last of the Polyjuice Potion during Fleur Delacour's task. That was roughly half an hour ago. Therefore, he had less than thirty minutes until this disguise would wear off. He would have to speak to Harry quickly and as soon as possible.

***

Croaker watched as werewolf number 176 rose from his seat and descended down the aisle. The Ianikit was acting peculiar, nothing in the manner that the Unspeakable was expecting. First of all, the werewolf seemed to be highly pro-wizard to watch such an event. Judging by his reaction, he certainly had a liking toward Harry Potter. Usually the creatures were highly antagonistic toward other wizards. Most of them wouldn't give a damn about any of them, even someone as renown as Potter. 

Two young students had rushed past the werewolf at the end of the task; they were probably Harry's friends and wanted to speak with him. Oddly enough, the werewolf then rose to his feet as well, and followed twenty steps behind them.

Croaker frowned to himself. This didn't make sense. Why would the werewolf want to follow those students? Possibly to meet Harry himself? And what good would that do? Could this beast actually be one of the boy's fans?

A stifled laugh burst from Croaker's lips. Now that was too much! It was clearly documented through the entire history of human-werewolf relations that the werewolves always were abusive and aggressive toward human, Muggle and wizard alike. Though that werewolf's clan was the exception to the rule: the Ianikit brood helped the Ministry significantly during the threat of Grindelwald. But of course, Croaker thought to himself, the Ianikits probably only wanted to cooperate with the Ministry in order to obtain spell-casting permission. That what all naturals aim for ultimately: the ability to practice magic.

Well, certainly the wolf isn't going to go and steal Harry's wand now was he? Croaker shook his head. What strange, strange animals these werewolves are. They're definitely not as predictable as other magical creatures. 

He put a hand to his ear. "Jaguar, Croaker here. I am establishing an on-foot passive pursuit of werewolf subject. Over."

***

Lupin watched as McGonagall guided Harry out of the enclosure and back to the yellow tent. Two others flanked them as well, spouting their own congratulations. Lupin easily remembered Hagrid, the towering Care for Magical Creatures teacher. One of the most accepting members of the Hogwarts faculty, Hagrid had stopped by his office quite a few times while dealing with Buckbeak's trial last year, to talk about magical creature legal rights. Hagrid had also given him a gift of a dozen flobberworms when he resigned from Hogwarts last June. "Jus' ter keep yeh company," he told him. "No' too much trouble ter care fo', as long as yeh keep 'em fed." Lupin thanked him for the gift (it was the thought that counted) but later released the flobberworms into the first ditch he came across, where they probably lived happier lives.

The second man, however, Lupin had never seen at Hogwarts before.

He was a well-built, stocky person with grizzled steel gray hair and a worn, weather-beaten face. His face had one dark beady eye and a magical light blue eye that moved on its own back and forth. One wooden leg accented his step with a hollow _clump_; the unsteady gait jaunted the stainless-steel flask hanging from his hip. 

Lupin exhaled slowly. Mad-Eye Moody, the famous Auror in the flesh. What was he doing here?

The two professors only had a moment to speak with Harry, for then Madame Pomfrey dragged him off into the medical tent to care for his injury. Hagrid and Moody both walked past Lupin, still complimenting the boy. 

"I knew 'e could do it," Hagrid was beaming. " 'E got a bit o' James Potter in 'im. Would 'ave made 'is parents proud."

"The dragon's only the first, though," Moody warned. "Next time, Potter might not be as lucky."

Lupin looked toward the medical tent where Harry had disappeared off to and might have not paid heed to either of them at all. However, something distracted him.

A faint stench of prune juice and rotten eggs. The scent of Polyjuice Potion.

Lupin coughed and put a hand over his nose. Was one of his canteens leaking? Checking the containers slung on his belt, he found that each were tightly sealed. Then where was that smell coming from?

Raising his head, he turned in the direction of the two professors. Mad-Eye Moody had unscrewed the cap to his flask and put it to his lips. Silently, Lupin took two steps forward in their direction. The subtle yet poignant smell of the potion invaded his sensitive werewolf nose. He turned away and covered his face. 

Moody tilted his head back and took a swig from his flask before re-capping it and continuing his conversation with Hagrid. But their words fell dumb to Lupin's ears. A startling realization came upon him. Yet he wouldn't go as far as to voice this concern; he shouldn't be jumping to conclusions. But needless to say, that scent had to be coming from _somewhere_. 

Hermione and Ron had arrived onto the field and slipped into the medical tent. Lupin glanced at the entrance, and then again in the direction of the leaving professors. He bit his lower lip in indecision. He reminded himself that he was here to protect Harry, whether the boy was aware of this or not. Finally, he left the tent area to follow the DADA teacher.

***

The old wolf headed in the direction of the two Hogwarts faculty members. Croaker took note of the werewolf's movements with a calculating stare. The wolf is out to get the Auror now. Of course there would be a perfect motive; Moody hunted down Dark Wizards and was an active tactical officer during Grindelwald's terror. It was he who decided that the Ministry shouldn't intercede during the St. Petersburg incident. Probably the creature had an old score to settle.

Croaker shook his head. The old coot is going to get it. Unless Croaker did something about it. Oh, he would just love to see the incompetent Dumbledore eat his words upon discovering the death or fatal injury of his newly-acquired teacher. To depend upon a delusional old-schooler when modern magical technology and police efficiency could protect this place a hundred times better! 

However, he couldn't risk letting even Moody get hurt. _Suppose I have to go save his ass,_ he thought smugly to himself. 

***

Hagrid and Moody parted ways when they arrived at the castle. "Want ter check up on tha' Fireball," Hagrid had said. "Poor girl looked terrible. Krum shouldn't 'ave used tha' Conjunctivitis Curse of 'er. She could 'ave been blinded."

"Go on then," Moody replied. "I've got some papers to correct in my office. Give Charlie my regards."

Lupin watched Moody enter the castle, counted slowly to a hundred, then followed. The Auror was known for his "constant vigilance" and Lupin didn't want to take any chances. He was slightly surprised that Moody hadn't noticed him beforehand. Maybe he was preoccupied in his conversation with Hagrid, but Lupin expected the wizard to be more alert.

Trailing him was more than easy. Soon, the grounds were flooded with people after the First Task officially ended, and Lupin simply slipped through the swarming spectators to the castle. Stepping inside, he felt the reminisces of old memories stirring up again, from both the distant past and the recent last year. He quickened his step, keeping to the shadows.

Moody seemed in a hurry as well, taking a shortcut through a side door to reach his office. Lupin took the long way through the labyrinth of corridors, just in case the wizard suspected he was being followed. A couple times, Lupin stopped himself, sensing someone behind him. However, when he looked about, he found himself alone. Maybe Jarohnen's paranoia tendencies were getting to him....

Stopping at the corner before the DADA office, he watched as Moody came in the other direction and stopped by the locked door. Unlocking it, he slipped inside, letting the door shut by itself. It swung to a close; however, the door remained slightly ajar. Lupin paused for a few moments to see if he would come and shut it completely. Yet he didn't.

Lupin wondered at the teacher's carelessness. He never expected to be able to get this close to him. The ever-watchful Mad-Eye Moody just didn't seem to be as vigilant as he was cracked up to be. How peculiar. 

Taking his chances, Lupin stopped just outside of the office door and peered through the crack alongside the hinges. Strange to think that this very office used to be his once. When he was teaching, Lupin had filled it with a multitude of Dark Creatures of all shapes and sizes. Glass boxes and charmed cages had covered the walls, with scribbled class notes and reports plied in between.

Moody changed the room drastically with his coming. Lupin comfortable mess had been converted to cleanliness of military precision. Books were lined up on the shelves as if they were never even used, and a large trunk with seven locks was pushed into the corner. Several pieces of Dark Detection equipment also laid about. A large Sneakoscope was gently rolling back and forth on the desk, dull and silent. On the corner of the desk sat a Secrecy Sensor, and a Foe Glass graced the back wall. Currently, the shadows contained within were blurred and dark; Lupin was glad that the instrument hadn't detected him as a possible enemy.

Moody was at a low table alongside the wall where the door opened parallel to. He didn't seem to be working on student's reports at all, but instead gathering a mass of magical ingredients out of a sack that lay on the floor underneath the desk. Lupin took note of the items as Moody placed them on the tabletop. 

A large jar of lacewing flies, the little insects still buzzing about within the glass.... A bundled roll of fluxweed and knotgrass.... A cardboard box labeled, "Red-Eyed Leeches,"... A small jar of luminescent powder - must be from a bicorn's horn...

As the items were assembled on the table, what they were dawned on Lupin. _Those were the ingredients for Polyjuice Potion!_ It was true; that was what Moody had in his flask! And if he was drinking Polyjuice Potion - someone was imitating Mad-Eyed Moody! There _was_ a saboteur at Hogwarts...! Lupin had to warn someone, he had to tell Dumbledore, he had to tell _Harry_-

Rough hands grabbed his wrists. Before he could react, Lupin was whirled around and rammed into the stone floor. 

"Don't worry, sir!" Someone shouted behind his back. "I got him!"

The wind was knocked out of his breath at the impact. For a second, Lupin was absolutely rigid with shock, then he thrashed out, kicking out and arching his back in an attempt to see behind him. 

_Wham!_

The stranger's fist slammed into the side of his head, knocking it against the rough building blocks. His very brain seemed to throb as he felt something wet trickle down his forehead.

A low growl. "Don't move, wolf."

Lupin lay prostrate on the ground, breathing shallowly. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse behind him. A strongly-built man who was graying at the temples kneeled over him, pinning his arms down. Lupin didn't recognize him from anywhere before. Moody had come out of the office at his shout, was at the doorway looking down at the two. Behind the teacher, the office door had swung wide open, yet all the Polyjuice Potion ingredients disappeared from view.

Lupin mentally cursed. God, what was going on? This man should be after Moody, the impersonator, not him! Didn't he see? The teacher was the criminal!

"Are you all right, sir?" the man asked the false Moody. 

Moody nodded. "Funny that I didn't see anything before," he growled. "Glad that you caught this one."

The officer didn't say anything in reply. "Tell Dumbledore that my group will be leaving Hogwarts grounds as soon as possible. This werewolf-" he glared at Lupin with disgust "- could have gotten you sacked, Moody. Ashamed that you weren't on your toes."

The poser readily agreed. "I'm going soft from this teaching job," he said earnestly. "You have my thanks, Croaker."

Croaker gave a half-sneer, half self-righteous grin. "Don't mention it." 

Lupin was hauled up to his feet as Croaker made a set of handcuffs appear out of thin air. Snapping them around the Jarohnen's gaunt wrists, he asked. "Wanted to get at the Defense teacher, eh, wolf?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Well, not when I'm around." 

The world tilted a bit as Lupin was hauled up to his feet and pushed down the hall. He closed his eyes - the vertigo was too much and his head ached from where he was hit. Opening them, he saw drops of blood drip onto his robes. 

The psuedo-Moody escorted the two down the hall. "Better make sure you get there okay, officer."

Croaker nodded. "Why not?" he said. One hand clamped over Lupin's bound wrists while the other was over his ear as he gave out orders. "Croaker here. Suspect apprehended and we're heading to the front of the school. Have the van waiting for us. Over."

As Lupin descended the stairs to the ground floor, the initial daze wore off. This man, this Croaker was going to turn him in. But how could he have known who he was?? Lupin felt a panic flutter in his chest. If the Ministry knows... No, how could they? Maybe he didn't know who he was, because he was Jarohnen Ianikit now, not Remus Lupin....

But not for long. Twenty minutes, Lupin realized, the thought cutting through his pain. He had twenty minutes left in this disguise. Then the potion would wear off and-

He couldn't let that happen. 

With a sudden burst of energy, Lupin rammed his elbow into Croaker's middle, pushing him into the fake Moody. 

"Shit!" The officer gasped, letting go. Lupin ran headlong down the hall, head bowed low. 

Moody shot something out of his wand. A sudden force hit him square in the back, and Lupin stumbled, but did not stop. Croaker and Moody bolted after him. "Halt, wolf!" cried the Unspeakable.

Cutting the corner, Lupin turned and raced up the nearest stairwell. Behind him he could hear their pounding footfalls... He had to hurry, had to find a way out....

His headache worsened into a pounding migraine. Lupin slipped in his running and fell. He propped himself up against the wall, panting. His wrists hurt from where the steel bit into his flesh. The blood was dripping, getting caught in the bushy white eyebrows. He blinked... he thought he was seeing spots....

Had to keep going. Had to get out of Hogwarts.

Lupin rose to his feet. The sounds of his pursuers reached his ears. He ran.

Zipping across the second floor corridor, he scanned for any possible exits. How many ways out of Hogwarts? Dozens of possibilities filled his mind, left over from his Marauder years. Through the house elf kitchens... up the South Tower and down the chimney stack... go to the Owlery behind the spare cages... to the stables third stall from the right...

He ducked into another hall. A flash of black robes and a pile of scrolls-

_Crash!_ Lupin ran straight into the person, spilling the scrolls the wizard was carrying. Several bounced along the hallway. Others came undone and papers flew.

"What the-" The other grabbed the front of his robe. "Who are you?"

Lupin looked up disconcertingly and his eyes widened. Serverus Snape. What luck.

Snape narrowed his eyes, taking in his beat-up state.

"Werewolf on the loose!" came Croaker's cry.

"You-" Snape started, but Lupin pushed him out of the way and continued his dash down the hall. Up the stairs! Quickly!

The sound of a third pair of feet joined in. Great. Was the entire school going to be after him now??

Where was he? Another stairwell - he brushed up against a painting and smeared blood on it - the young maiden residing there screamed with Victorian grace - 

The shout of voices came from behind - it was Croaker, Snape and the fake Moody, all shouting warnings -

"Look out!"

"Intruder in the halls!"

Third floor. Lupin darted into an empty classroom. He collapsed by the front board. He leaned his head against the cool slate - he didn't care if he left blood-

Had to figure a way out. Had to get out of Hogwarts.

The shouts and footfalls past the classroom he hid in. His pursuers continued their run, missing him. Thank God.

Lupin used his time wisely. Now he had the chance, he thought of a way to leave Hogwarts as quickly as possible. Where was he now? Third floor. Where was the quickest escape route on the third floor...?

Wait. Third floor was where the humpbacked witch was.... Yes, that was the only way out of Hogwarts other than with Croaker's men. Inside the statue of the humpbacked witch was a tunnel that led to Honeydukes, the candy shop in Hogsmeade. Yes, that was the way out, the only way... Hopefully, the tunnel would still be free... No one knew of it now, other than Harry, his friends... possibly Snape... damn, pray he doesn't lead Moody and Croaker there if he does....

Lupin peered out into the hallway. Empty. Good. He crossed the hall with quickened steps. The humpbacked witch, where was it? By the Arithmacy classroom.... if he recalled correctly...

The witch statue was exactly how he remembered it. The crooked-nosed stone figure became an angelic savior to him. Even though his hands were still bound behind his back, Lupin managed to get his wand out of his robe pocket. Turning so his back faced the statue, he tapped it, whispering, "_Dissendium._" 

A grinding noise was heard behind him as the witch's hump opened up to reveal the familiar entrance. Looking over his shoulder, Lupin saw that the opening was much narrower than he remembered. Or maybe he was much thinner before, in his real body. 

Lupin faced the witch's hump and jumped into the hole, wiggling about like a jellyfish until he pushed himself through. He slid down a narrow shaft of earth and fell with a dull _thump!_ into the black tunnel. Above him, the witch's hump closed, leaving him in the dark. 

Lupin first pointed to his handcuffs and with a spark of magic, unhinged them from his wrists. Then, after rubbing the circulation back into them, he ordered, "_Lumos!_" His wand lit up and he began crawling his way out of Hogwarts.

The pain in his head resided a bit, probably because the stress of the last few minutes had abated. He felt the gash on his forehead; luckily, it wasn't a deep cut. He could get it fixed at the Safehouse.

The journey through the tunnel was long and tedious, but he moved quickly, breaching the shortcut to Hogsmeade in half the usual time. He marveled that the space was still in relatively good working condition; he thought that it might have caved-in long ago. Many times years ago, he and his friends scampered through here on their weekly Honeydukes raid..... It was, actually, Peter's idea to break into Honeydukes, when he demanded that he should contribute something too in the making of the Marauder's Map. Grudgingly enough, Lupin gave the rat some credit for the idea of making this tunnel.

As the passage began to rise, Lupin flicked off his light. Then he came to the worn stone steps leading up to the Honeydukes cellar, he knew that he had gone far enough - past the Hogwarts protection spells and their anti-Apparating Charms.

Lupin didn't waste any time. "_Apparatus!_" he proclaimed, and the world dissolved and vanished.

When it reassembled again, the familiar London evening street greeted him. Up ahead, the gray, desolate Safehouse was the same as always, but he came upon it like it was a holy sanctuary. Lupin ran across the street, but then slowed down his pace to a calm walk. He reached the gate and rung the bell. Now that he was still, he realized how fast his heart was racing. His hands were shaking; he wrung them together to calm his nerves. 

It was only then did Lupin notice that he hands were his own and not Jarohnen's aged ones. Further observation proved that the Polyjuice Potion must have worn off during his trek through the tunnel. 

But he was back home. He was safe. The officers couldn't track him down. God... that was a close one. A faint chuckle escaped. A damn close one...

The front door opened and Claire came to the gate. Lupin tucked his wand back into his robe pocket and straightened his clothes out the best he could. As she came to open the gate, Claire didn't speak a word to him, but a quiet expression flickered across her face. The two went inside and she sat him at the kitchen table.

Finally, she spoke. "You're 'urt," she stated.

Lupin put a hand to the cut on his forehead, brushing against the fragile scab that had formed over the wound. He could only nod in acknowledgment. His hands were still shaking and he hid them under the table.

"I had a bit of a difficult time getting back," he said.

"Your robes are a mess," Claire continued. She brushed her hand against his shoulder and a smudge of dirt came off onto her palm. "It must 'ave been some difficult time." She went over to the sink and prepared a soapy dishcloth. Bringing it over, she instructed, "Turn your face toward ze light." He did and she dabbed it against his face with an outstretched arm. 

The wound stung on contact and Lupin flinched. Claire put a hand to his cheek. "Shhh," she hushed with motherly instinct and finished wiping the area. Then, with precise, careful strokes, she wiped the dirt from his face. Her fingers lingered along his cheekbone and Lupin raised his eyes to meet her stare. 

That wisp of hair was over her eyes again. Slowly, his hand reached up. His fingers carefully took hold of the loose lock and tucked it behind her ear. Claire stared at him, completely frozen at this boldness. Lupin moved his hand and gently placed it on top of hers. 

"Back already, comrade?"

The two recoiled from each other as Jarohnen entered. "You look like hell," he commented, pulling up a seat at the table. He glanced at them with a raised eyebrow. 

"I've been through a bit of that," he hastily answered, discreetly pushing his chair back to create more space between Claire and him.

She herself took a step back as well, grabbing the cloth from the kitchen table. "I'll get ze First Aid kit," she said in a sudden business-like tone.

"That would be great," Lupin replied cordially. 

Jarohnen watched Claire leave the room, her head bowed. "So," he said, turning back to him, "did any of the wizard children die yet?"

"The Tournament actually went quite well," Lupin informed him, feeling a need to defend it. "It was quite impressive how the students handled the task. They were up against dragons."

"Looks like ya fought a couple dragons yaself." Jarohnen said, taking note of Lupin's appearance. 

"The security was tighter than I expected," was all he said in reply. "Where's Mary?"

"In the living room. Antonia was fussin' with her hair. Sayin' how she always wanted to be yellow-haired or somethin'," Jarohnen rolled his eyes. "Comrade Garrett Walters stopped by a couple hours ago. Ya met him?"

"Somewhat," Lupin drawled, recalling the man who smuggled him into the Tournament.

By then, Claire came back with some antiseptic and bandages. "Just put this on and you'll be fine," she instructed, handing him the tube.

While he covered the wound himself, Claire was busily brushing the excess dirt and the back of his robes. From behind, she sudden burst out in a spasm of coughing.

"Are y'all right?" Jarohnen asked as she put a closed fist to her mouth.

"Yes, zair's just zis strange dust 'ere..." she replied, waving a hand in front of her face. "Didn't see it ze first time, but, Remus, you're covered in it."

"I am?" Lupin brushed his hands across the front of his robes and a shower of blue sparkles bellowed out from underneath his touch. "I had no idea..." he started.

"Let me take a look," Jarohnen interrupted, getting up. As he put a hand to Lupin's sleeve, a startled expression came across his face. He shook his head. "Can't be..."

"Can't be what?" Lupin asked.

Jarohnen pinched a bit of the blue dust between his thumb and forefinger. "Did any of the wizards spell-blast ya with anythin'?" he questioned.

"Well, no," Lupin backtracked his thoughts. "Mad-Eyed Moody-" he started.

"_Who?_" Jarohnen stiffened.

"One of the security wizards," he quickly amended. "What is it?"

The Ianikit gruffly cleared his throat. "Tracking dust," he whispered. "Hits the clothing ya have and then the wizard can track ya to hell and back, no problem. T'was Mad-Eyed Moody's concoction, a common police force spell now..." He pursed his lips together, but refrained from commenting more about the retired Auror. "Take it off," he said abruptly.

"What?" 

"Hand the damn robe to me!"

Lupin did, leaving him in his Muggle clothes. Jarohnen quickly pulled the cloth over his head. "They thought it was me still right?" he was saying. "When ya left? They didn't see ya otherwise?"

"Yes, but-" A mistake suddenly dawned on Lupin. "I-I took a shortcut out of Hogwarts!" he said urgently. "A tunnel that lead to Hogsmeade.... I Apparated from there.... Hardly anyone knew about the path I took, not even Dumbledore...."

"So?" Claire asked, staring at the two with a worried look in her eyes. 

"I think Snape knew about it. He caught Harry using it last year. Well, I ran into him upon my departure. He teaches Potions at Hogwarts," he added hurriedly, trying to make himself more coherent to the werewolves. "Snape knows that the only people outside of Hogwarts who knew of this passageway were me and Sirius Black. Yet he knows that Black is in jail so the only one who could be sneaking into Hogwarts would be me. He could have told-"

_Buzzzzzz!!_

All three jumped at the noise. Enemies at the gate. Lupin turned his head toward the foyer as Jarohnen said to him, "Come with me! And get the girl!"

Jarohnen left for the staircase upstairs and both Lupin and Madame rushed into the common room. The Freedom Hounds lounged around, ignorant of the current events. 

"Welcome back, Remus," Ulysses greeted. "How was the Tournament?"

Lupin didn't reply. Instead, Claire announced, "Ulysses, Zeo, I must speak wiz you." 

They looked up, alarmed at the two's urgent air. 

"What's wrong?" Theo asked, putting down a half-whittled block of wood. Claire just jerked her head to the door and the three left the room. 

Antonia refrained from her task, which was braiding ribbons into the girl's hair. Mary's face lit up when Lupin walked in and she ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist, the green and blue strands trailing from her hair. "You're back!"

"Didn't I say it wouldn't take long?" Lupin gathered the girl in his arms and lifted her up, feeling the need to have her closer. She was small for her age, and felt like nothing in his hold. "We'll have to leave now," he told her.

Mary's happiness became muted as her expression changed. "What do you mean?" she asked. 

"I'll explain later," Lupin said headed to their room. Behind them, Claire was calling to the other Freedom Hounds as well, talking in a hushed whisper.

_Buuuzzzzzzz!_ echoed the bell from the front gate.

Lupin lowered Mary down onto the bed, then drew out his battered briefcase from underneath. He opened it up and quickly began throwing in various belonging that lay around the room.

"Why are we going?" Mary questioned again, as she watched him pack.

Lupin tossed in several of Mary's small robes from the closet, followed by his Bible that lay on the bedside table. "Just another trip," he said in a distracted voice. "Nothing to worry over."

_Buuuzzzzz!_

Mary crawled over to check out the window. "Remmy, it looks like there are police cars outside," she said in a surprised voice.

"Yes, I know, Mary."

"Why have the police come?"

"Please don't hinder me. We have to go quickly."

"Are they after us?"

"Mary..." he said through gritted teeth. The expansion spell on the briefcase was wearing thin; the sides were bulging as he tried to snap it shut.

"Are we the bad guys then?"

Lupin bored his weight upon the suitcase. One quick push and the case locked with a satisfying _snap_! "There!" he said, ignoring her question. "Now off we go." He grabbed her hand and led her away from the window. 

"But the coppers are after us?" she was saying bewilderedly. "We're gonna go to jail, Remmy; we're gonna get arrested!"

Somehow, a harsh laugh came out in reply. "I don't intend for that to happen."

He met up with Harriet in the hallway. "Claire called up a cab and sent it to Cloudesley Square. That's just a couple blocks from here, not too far..." 

Lupin gave her a curt nod in acknowledgment. "Where's Jarohnen?" he asked.

"Back room upstairs," Harriet replied. She grabbed Lupin's arm before he turned away.

"Just see Madame first, will you?" she said in a low voice. "You gotta see her."

"Take Mary to him then."

Harriet nodded as she took her hand. "Don't be too long."

"I won't," he said.

Mary looked like she was about to suffer from pure panic, yet Harriet said assuredly, "Chin up. Remus just needs a word with Claire, dearie, then you're going." 

Lupin found Claire in her office, pacing. A thick wad of pound notes was in her clenched fists, folded neatly and secured by thick rubber bands. Claire shoved the money into his hands. "Take it," she ordered.

"Claire, I can't." In reflex, Lupin tried handing it back to her, but she backed off.

"You'll need it," she said tersely. "Use it to get a Muggle way out; you can't Apparate out of ze country. Don't know ze airline prices, but maybe you could get onto a plane out of 'ere at Gatwick. London City only has flights to ze continent...."

Lupin flipped through the stack. His eyes widened at the amount. seven, eight hundred, maybe more. "Where did you get this?" he inquired.

"... You can't stay in Europe; ze Ministry 'as close contact to all ze continental governments from 'ere to Vienna; zey could still get you. Try America - you know as well as I do 'ow rocky ze relations are between ze Ministry and ze American MGA..." 

"I can't take your money," he said.

She stopped. "Don't question me," she snapped suddenly. "You and Mary are going."

"We could take the Chunnel to France, escape through there..."

"You can't!" Claire nearly exploded in his face. "If you do, ze French wizards will be zair to meet you on ze ozzar side! Now shut up and listen to me!"

Lupin was stuck dumb. Madame de Chien-Loup groaned and put a hand to her forehead. "Zeo's out zair, holding zem off. I can't keep you 'ere forever," she said bitterly.

"Fine," he said, giving in. "Where did you want me to go?"

"Ze Gatwick's almost an 'our away," she answered firmly. "But it's better zan taking your chances at London City. Book a flight to America; zey can do last-minutes, but you 'ave to pay more." She ran a hand through her hair; her regular braid was becoming undone. "You and Mary can take an all-night flight out of England. But whatever you do..." She paused slightly. "You can't come back." Her voice became tight at the last point. Her eyes darted over to her desk.

Lupin was stunned. "Please, if I ..."

"Ze Registry is surely going to contact ze ozzar continental governments about all zis," she said in a quiet voice. "Ze others would probably want my program to be shut down in zair countries as well..." Lupin thought he saw her eyes tear up, but Claire turned him around and was pushing him out of the room.

"Claire-" he stuttered, trying to have a final say.

"Don't speak," she ended. "Just go."

The office door was shut in his face before he could put in another word. Lupin cast his eyes down at the folded wad of money in his hand and put it in his jacket pocket. "Well, goodbye," he said softly to the closed door. He wanted to add something like, "I'll never forget your kindness," but couldn't get the words past his lips. It sounded too out of place anyway.... Finally, he swiftly turned away and headed back upstairs.

In the back room, Jarohnen had a power drill in his hands and was rapidly unscrewing the final outdoor screen to the rear window, which was much larger than all the other ones in the Safehouse. Sitting on the floor, Mary was trying to untangle the rope ladder.

"Only window that's unbarred," he said over his shoulder. "Claire put this 'un to appeal to the buildin's fire code. Get the ladder."

"Of course. Are you feeling all right, Mary?" he asked.

She gave a faint nod. "The coppers aren't gonna get us?" she whispered.

"Never."

Jarohnen gave a small cry as the last screw was undone. He took the sides of the glass in his hands and quickly removed the glass from the window, leaving open air. Lupin handed him the ladder and the Russian lowered it down to the ground.

"They're in. It's the MLES."

Lupin glanced behind his shoulder to see Ulysses in the doorway. 

"Magical Law Enforcement Squad?" Jarohnen frowned. "Why not the Werewolf Capture Unit?"

"Is Claire talking to them?" Lupin asked.

Ulysses looked grim. "I don't know what the hell Claire is doin' right now." 

Jarohnen tossed Ulysses the power drill. "Seal the window up as soon as we leave," he instructed. Then he addressed Lupin and Mary. "I'll go down first, then ya, then Mary. We'll hightail it in different directions; I'll steer 'em off toward the south end of town." He boosted himself up to the window ledge. "That cab of yas won't be waitin' long."

Lupin could only nod mutely. He couldn't think of a sufficient farewell, not in this rush. Jarohnen, however, did it for him.

"Been a privilege to know ya both," he said. "If we ever meet again, Comrade Remus, may it be in a better place." 

He then spoke to Ulysses again. "Watch out for Claire." He hauled another leg out of the window and began his descent. He lifted his head up over the ledge to call out one last order, as if an afterthought. "And if I don't come back," he added, "I give ya my violin."

His head disappeared under the windowsill. It was now Lupin's turn. He sat on the sill for a moment, and gave Ulysses a farewell gesture. 

"May the road rise up beneath you," the Freedom Hound whispered.

By the time he swung over the edge, Jarohnen's stooped form, still wearing Lupin's dirty robes, was already turning the corner. Lupin came down the ladder as quickly as he could, then, signaled for Mary to come down as well as soon as he touched ground. Ulysses then threw down his briefcase; it landed in a snow bank by the side of the building. 

For a moment, he and Mary stood outside the Safehouse, taking one last look. Something was becoming lost to them at that moment, never to be found again. Yet it was no time to be caught up with sentiment. Within a few minutes, the two were running down the snowy evening streets toward Cloudesley Square. 

Chapter 26

Claire sat with her back against the shut door, her knees raised up to her chin. In her hand was a rumpled, soggy tissue, and her eyes were still rimmed in red. Why waste herself in tears now? How was that going to help things? She mentally cursed herself for her pathetic lapse of weakness. She had cried twice this past week; what was coming over her lately?

Remus Lupin- that was it. Everything in her life was smooth sailing before he came. He and the dear child, standing at the gate.... She could remember that morning like it happened the day before. Mary looking up at her, clutching Lupin's hand... Claire knew that she intimidated her. Childish fear was almost amusing. Endearing, actually. How helpless and so young she looked, having no one to cling to but this wizarding werewolf.

And this werewolf. Lupin's glare was what put up her guard. Her initial reaction was that he was a danger. Lupin knew in the back of his mind that he shouldn't have come. And so did Claire. But those eyes, how he challenged her entire decade-old program with that stare. An expression stating that he would not be refused.

For the first time in a long time, Claire felt her authority being threatened. Here was one person - a wizard - daring her to accept him and his pup. And she did.

No matter how hard she tried, it was a decision she could not regret. Except maybe now. 

Now, when the MLES officers stood outside. Claire had caught a look at them from the kitchen window beforehand, when Theo was talking to them, trying to stall for time. They were different from the Registry officers. The RMC came across to her as stone-faced machinery. The Hit Wizards waiting for Lupin were worse. They had a murderous look about them. These officers hadn't come to toy with the werewolves with cold detachment like the RMC; they came with a clear, defined mission. They came to capture a fugitive, whether it Lupin or any other werewolf. They came to bring a criminal to justice. They were the law. And strangely enough, this law - wizard law - frightened her more than the RMC. 

Claire wondered what she regretted more that moment. Losing her livelihood or losing her small family.

She allowed herself one more tear before getting up. She threw the used tissue into the wastebasket with grim determination. No time to act like a fool. The MLES were waiting for her. She couldn't remain in her office blubbering like a pup.

In a situation like this, Claire reasoned that she had three choices. One: cooperate with the MLES, and get Lupin captured and Mary killed. Two: defy them and probably endanger the lives of her tenants and friends, and immediately ruin the reputation of her Safehouses and the other wolves who run them. The final option was a mix of both choices. It involved magic and deception: the two things she struggled with. Well, more so the former than the latter.

On her desk were two things that Lupin didn't take notice of when he was in the room: a slip of paper and a steaming mug. The paper contained a brief message, signed with her own hand, "Cooperate with the officers. Tell them the truth as you know it. Don't worry, you have not been harmed." Claire only hoped that she would be willing to obey herself after taking the potion.

She smiled weakly, thinking of what Lupin's reaction would be to the mug's contents. If only he noticed! Making a Forget Potion? A werewolf practicing magic?

Well, she had given him hints before, hadn't she? She had access to the ingredients through the Internet. She had the proper spell books; he himself had used them. She had knowledge of the spells he talked about, like the Polyjuice Potion. But of course Lupin probably never thought along those lines. And why would he at this time? Claire wondered if he did get her hints, if they didn't need to worry about the law, would have he....

She brushed the thought from her mind. Lupin would never teach her magic. Once, when she was much younger, and Jarohnen had been living at the Safehouse all year round, she had been caught up in the Russian's frenzied magic-for-all campaign, but no more. She knew a little from reading the books, but would probably never reach the level of even a Hogwarts student. Maybe, she supposed, it was better this way.

She didn't even know if she performed the magic correctly. Who knows; maybe she fouled it up somehow. What if she took a sip and died from it? Or what if she didn't end up forgetting, but enforcing her memories? Or what if nothing happened at all? But now wasn't the time to ponder these questions.

And if this spell worked... Claire bit her lip. She had to do this. After all, she was never going to see them again...

And with that, she wrapped both hands around the mug. Breathing in the bittersweet steam of the liquid, she whispered the incantation. "_Memoria ex oblivio Remus Lupin et Mary Grisham..._"

***

The taxi was backing away from the curb when Lupin and Mary arrived. "Hey! Hold up!" Lupin called, waving a hand. 

The driver backed up and the front window pulled down. A loud pop music beat blared out, accompanied by the undulating voice of an Indian singer. "You here to catch a ride?" yelled the dark-skinned Pakistani.

"Yes!"

"What?"

"I said yes!"

"All righty then, get in."

Lupin opened the door and ushered Mary onto the stained back seat. Wafts of heavy incense and chewing tobacco came to his nose; he coughed and tried not to breath to deeply. Slipping into the back seat, Lupin asked, "How long will it take to get to Gatwick?"

"Hmmm... hour, hour 'n' half..." Somehow, the driver's voice was just loud enough to be heard over the radio.

Pulling out five wrinkled twenty-pound notes from his stash, he handed it to the driver. "Take this," he said. 

The driver waved the hand away. "No pay now, sir."

"Just take it!" He thrust the money through the window of smudgy plastic divider. "And if you get there within thirty minutes, you'll get a hundred more."

Now he seemed to understand. The driver quickly snatched up the bills. "Yes sir!" he agreed, and the taxi lurched forward, jerking around the corner and onto Liverpool Road.

The unfortunate passengers tumbled forward at the first swerve. Lupin clutched at the back of the driver's seat, trying to regain his balance. "Umm... Mary, you might want to put on one of those seat buckles..."

Mary obediently snapped a shoulder belt across her chest. She remembered her father making a comment about London cabbies, associating it with why he always took the bus. 

The taxi swerved again, darting between the cars on the street. One flying _whoosh_- they narrowly missed an oncoming truck. A rubber-burning _screechhhhh_ - two inches from sideswiping a minivan.

Lupin began to regret making that offer. "Um, are you sure we're driving safely?" he asked.

The driver didn't answer. He crouched low in his seat, humming to the foreign music as he kept his eyes on the road. Occasionally he whipped the steering wheel around full circle, while pressing down on the pedals. Lupin wondered if that was the proper way to drive.

He tried again. "Can you go slower?"

_Honkkkkkkkk!_ An angry driver made an obscene gesture at them as the taxi soared past. 

"What you say, sir?" the driver asked nonchalantly. 

"Can you go slower??"

"What?"

"Slower!"

"We go fast?"

"SLOWER!"

"Ah...." The Pakistani nodded knowingly. "Okay sir." With that, he rammed his foot down on the gas. Lupin grabbed hold of Mary and latched onto his seat for dear life. 

As the taxi bumped and jolted through the crowded London streets, Mary posed an innocent question. "Where are we going, Remmy?"

"To Gatwick International Airport." 

She nodded. Carefully, she wormed her way from Lupin's hold. The taxi didn't smell very good; it made her feel sick. And if she was sick, she didn't want to get be sick on him.

To Gatwick International Airport. This had to be the truth this time. 

They were going flying now. They had to, because they had to get away from the police very fast. But why couldn't he use his magic to take them away? Mary wasn't sure. 

She remained unsure about a lot of things concerning Remmy. It was an uncomfortable realization, but one thing was that he lied to her a lot about the important things. Like about the fact he was a magician, or that he was the wolf who bit her. Or about why the RMC were after them. She never knew the RMC were the same as the police. Why didn't Remmy tell her the truth?

Now that she thought about it, how many times had he lied to her, saying that it was for her own good? Many times. Mary felt a bit betrayed that Remmy so often kept her in the dark. But she trusted him. He had to know what was best for them; he had known always before. This truth became as level to her as why she should always drink her milk or go to bed early - it was for her own good. So running away from the police was for her own good. After all, the police were bad people to them; they were the good guys. Remmy taught her that logic.

Yet she wondered whether that was the real truth to things or not. What would Mama say about Remmy's words? Or Papa? She knew with a guilty feeling that they had never lied to her. Papa in particular, had always told her the truth about things, and so did Mama. Like with the lady in the church. Looking back, Mary realized that they could have lied to her about her death, yet instead they told the truth. They trusted her enough to let her understand....

Mary realized that this was the first time in many weeks that she even thought about her parents this much. She suddenly felt embarrassed by this, but pushed the feeling back. Her parents were far, far away now anyway. They were at home.... Don't think about them. She didn't belong with them now. She had to stay here and help Remmy.

She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. The yucky taxi smell must be getting to her. She wished she was back at the Safehouse, with Madame de Chien-Loup and all those other nice werewolves. Or back at home, in Havenshire....

Stop thinking about home! She couldn't go home, remember that!

Anyway, she had Remmy.... He had taken care of her all this time; he said he would always be here; he promised he wouldn't leave her alone...

_Sitting in Mama's lap, letting her comb out her hair with gentle strokes-_

Stop it.

_Papa's hand in hers, a secure safety line, as she rode a carnival pony for the first time-_

Don't think about it.

_Mama's bedtime voice, as she read her stories-_

_Papa's smile, the way he carried her up on his shoulders-_

_Mama's laugh, tinkling like silver bells-_

_Papa's eyes, how they sparkled when he was happy-_

Don't think about it!

"Mary?" Lupin looked over at her with concern. The girl was curled up in the corner of the back seat, facing the window. "Mary, are you crying?"

"No." Mary quickly wiped her eyes. Don't think about it, don't act like a baby!

Lupin put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry," he reassured her in a soft voice. "I have everything taken care of."

_No, you don't, you liar, _Mary thought, but said nothing. She bit her lower lip, trying to force all the anger out. She shouldn't be mad at him. Remmy was her friend, and he never got mad at her. But Mary couldn't help feeling this way; she came to help him and all he did was lie! It wasn't fair!

_The memory of the stolen train ride to London. Remmy's own words, echoing back in her mind. "Rules... only aim to create fairness for everyone. Yet the world isn't like that. I learned, actually, that life isn't quite fair at all.... People like to hear about fairness and justice, but it's all a lie..." _

"Please tell me why you're crying," Lupin was asking her. He put a hand on her small shoulder. Mary turned away. Remmy looked like he was about to cry as well. She hurt him, didn't she? Acting like a baby.... She must be such a disappointment! Oh, she didn't mean to be this way!

_I'm sorry,_ Mary thought, her world now just a jumble of confusion. _I'm sorry I'm acting like a baby. I'm not brave all the time, Remmy, like you! I can't lie or steal or play pretend with strangers. I can't act the way you want me to! I can't be good the way _you_ are...._ But Mary only shook her head resolutely, letting the tears flow freely down her cheeks.

***

Lupin watched Mary cry, feeling absolutely helpless. He made her cry like this, scaring her so much. He shouldn't have done that. Oh, why couldn't have he made up another story; why didn't he attribute it to another one of their "pretend games?" She shouldn't know the truth about these things; she was too young! 

He looked for a tissue, a stray napkin, anything to wipe her tears with. He had some Kleenex in his pocket, he remembered and took some out. "I know you're scared right now," he said calmly. "But remember the promise I made?"

Mary only sniffed softly. She took the tissue gratefully and blew her nose. 

"I'm here for you," Lupin said. "And I won't let anyone hurt you. Remember that."

She buried her small head against his side. "I'm sorry," she mumbled under her breath.

"Sorry?"

"I haven't been a good girl," she blubbered. "If I had, then maybe the police wouldn't be after us..."

"Shhh..." He stroked her hair. "Don't think that," he told her. "It was my fault that this all happened..."

"You're lying," she whispered.

His answer came out strained. "What do you mean?" 

"You say that all the time," she said, wiping her eyes. "But you don't mean it that way. You only say it to make me feel better."

"Do you really think that?"

She only sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue.

"Listen to me." Lupin put a hand to her chin and lifted her head up. "Look at me, Mary. I'm going to tell the truth this time." He felt bitter to state himself this way. He never knew that she felt like this about him. That she couldn't trust him. Mary looked up at him expectantly.

"It's true that I haven't told you some things in the past," he said. "But it's not because I'm not fond of you, or don't trust you. It's just that I believe that... It is proper for certain things to be told only at certain times... Do you understand what I mean?"

No reply.

"Well, for instance," he continued quickly, "I can't tell the RMC that you're with me now, because then they would try to hurt you. Maybe.... maybe sometime later, when the RMC and I come to an understanding, can I tell them that you're here." Okay, one white lie there.... Lupin hurried on. "And before, I always told you the truth when you needed it. I never actually lied to you. I only waited for the right time to tell you. Remember our agreement? We're here to help each other."

Mary gave an unreadable sigh, but her tears had stopped.

"You have to learn to trust me, Mary. There are very few people we can trust. But we're here to help each other. Okay?" 

Silence. She was staring out the window, but he could tell she was still listening. 

"You're just a bit scared right now. Frankly, I'm scared too. But we'll get out of this." Lupin realized he was staring at her and shifted his gaze away. Finding nothing else he could say, Lupin slouched in his seat and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. 

Wait a moment. Lupin straightened up in his seat. He then turned his pockets inside out and put his hand to his jean pockets. Feeling nothing, his heart jumped. Couldn't be. Lupin turned his pockets inside out, then slowly let his eye roam the small cabin. Had it rolled under the seat? Hidden in the small cracks of the vinyl cushioning? Did he drop it outside in Cloudesley Square? Lupin contemplated carefully, backtracking his steps. He was sure he had it when he got back to the Safehouse, but when he left...

Mary noticed Lupin shifting his weight around in his seat uncomfortably. She looked out of the corner of her eye to see him discreetly checking his pockets, the back seat. He then paused in thought again.

"What are you looking for?" she said.

"Nothing, Mary," he replied calmly. But he had to acknowledge the fact: his wand was gone.

***

Jarohnen Ianikit silently made his way through Chapel Market. In the day the place was alive and bursting with Muggles, shopping from the small stalls and vendors that lined the street. As night fell, however, everything was locked down and packed away, leaving a deserted avenue, highlighted as the light of street lamps reflected off the sheet metal covers of the closed stalls. Slipping past those said closed-up stands, Jarohnen paced himself cautiously. He had a taxi waiting for him on White Lion Street, but Claire had specifically told the driver to wait twenty minutes. He didn't have to rush; not to say that he couldn't if he needed to. 

Behind him, a faint sparkling trail of blue dust hovered in his wake. He turned around to catch it vanishing into the frigid winter air. Yet with the right spell, the trail would light up like a line of fireflies, leading straight to him. He looked down at the robes his wore in bitter distaste. Jarohnen had never worn wizard robes a single day in his life; this disgusted him. The thick dust that billowed around him worsened this feeling. Damn this dust... 

He stopped by a sealed-up cart and ripped the dirty robes off. A small shadow in his back of his mind hinted about his first encounter with tracking dust: little more than fifty years ago in the streets of St. Petersburg. How else could his family have been hunted down so quickly?

Jarohnen held the robes at arms length and hurried his stride. He just wanted to be rid of them now.

A small item hit the asphalt, falling into the slushy snow. Jarohnen stooped down to pick it up. What was this? Holding it up to the dull streetlight, his eyes suddenly went wide with recognition. He then shoved the item hastily into his trench coat pocket.

Arriving at White Lion Street, Jarohnen tapped the window of the waiting cab. When the driver scrolled it down, he said quickly, "I need ya to do me a quick favor."

"What do you mean?" came the suspicious reply. 

Jarohnen held up a handful of money. "Ya'll be greatly rewarded," he said. 

At one hundred pounds, the driver quickly agreed to listen. An exchange was made. Another hundred, and the driver decided to drive down to the Thames and dump an anonymous pile of clothing into it. Three hundred enabled him to keep quiet about this strange errand.

A few minutes later, the cab abruptly backed up and started speeding down the street. Jarohnen watched the vehicle leave. The MLES would catch up to it with ten minutes, surely, but they wouldn't harm the cabbie once they find out he was only a Muggle. They'd probably erase his memory of the event, but no lasting harm. A win-win situation for everyone. Putting a hand to his pocket, he stroked the smooth wood of Remus Lupin's wand. Definitely a win-win situation. Jarohnen felt a deserved satisfaction well up in his chest and continued down the street.

He wasn't actually going to keep Comrade Remus' wand; no, no, he couldn't steal from a fellow wolf. Jarohnen would just hold onto it for the time being. After all, since Comrade Remus and the girl are both on the run, it may be a long while until he met up with them again. A very long while in fact. Jarohnen idly counted the possible amount of time in his head. Weeks, months, maybe not even until next winter...

He didn't mind the wait.

With this thought on his mind, he began to whistle to himself. Whistling came easily to him, especially since he lacked his front teeth. 

But where to go now? Of course Jarohnen wasn't returning to the Safehouse; he would be a danger to Comrade Claire and the Hounds there. Maybe he should use the rest of the money she gave him to head out of town. Or he could follow the usual hobo tracks down to Brighton. Brighton was a resort town currently in off-season, a nice place for a wolf.

It was not until Jarohnen came onto Upper Street did he notice the MLES patrol car behind him. He gave it a mild glance and continued his way. They must have caught the cabbie sooner than he thought. Well, no matter. He smacked his lips together. With the wand at close hand, he anticipated the thought of officers following him.

The car stopped on the road in front of him. The window rolled down.

"Jarohnen Ianikit?"

"Good evening officers." Jarohnen actually smiled. "Nice night for a drive, eh?"

The side door opened and the wizard stepped out. He had a different presence than an RMC; instead of arrogant superiority, he radiated ultimate authority. "You're coming with us, wolf."

"Really?" Jarohnen made a mock face of surprise. "And why would I?"

"For questioning." The MLES officer listed the charges in a polite but cold voice. "On counts of trespassing on Hogwarts school grounds, attempted assault with intent of bodily harm, resisting arrest, and assaulting an officer."

_Comrade Remus was certainly busily,_ Jarohnen thought.

"What if I don't want to be comin' with ya?" he asked lightly. 

"Then we will have no choice but to resort to force."

Jarohnen made a face at them. "I'm game."

The officer tried to be polite about this situation. Jarohnen was amazed at his consideration. "At this moment, we have you surrounded."

He was right. Jarohnen checked behind him. Ah, so another patrol car was parked on the corner of Liverpool and Tulpuddle. Those wizards had left their vehicle as well; he was boxed in it seemed. Clever thinking, these wizards. 

Jarohnen backed up a few steps. His hand went to his pocket. "Come and catch me," he dared and turned around. He stopped short. Three officers behind him, wands raised. Oh, so play it that way, eh? Jarohnen smiled broadened. This time, he was on a level playing field. 

_Snap!_

The cables whipped around him, but Jarohnen kept his balance. He stared at the officer who approached him. 

"You have the right to remain silent-" He grabbed him by the shoulder.

"I refuse that right." Jarohnen's free hand grabbed at the man's wand arm, which was down by his side and easy to hold. His other jerked from his pocket, Lupin's wand aiming at the highest height it could with his upper arms bound. "Don't make a move," Jarohnen growled. "Or ya'll be pissin' into a bag for the rest of ya life."

The officer froze. The others stepped forward, but their leader commanded in a tense voice, "Put down your wands!"

"Good choice," Jarohnen hissed. "Now free me, officer." He still had a grip on the officer's wand arm. "If you try anythin' nasty," he said, "I'll make sure to leave a mark myself." He tapped Lupin's wand against the officer's groin in emphasis. 

The officer scowled and flicked his wand. The cables snapped back into non-existence.

Jarohnen acted quickly. "_Expelliarmus_!"

Soon, he had the upper hand. In minutes, all his pursers were unarmed and standing in the street, including the driver of the first MLES vehicle. Jarohnen stuffed their wands into his coat, gleeful as a child with a handful of candy. "Now, let's see what experience has taught me," he said. Another wave of Lupin's wand - five men and women fell to the ground, bound and gagged. "Not bad," he chuckled. "Not bad at all."

He walked out into the snowy street and addressed the officers in a low voice. "Learned a bit after years of watchin' the RMC," he said. "Nice to know my memory is still sharp."

He circled them, eyeing them like a hunter would examine his quarry. "My clan imitated Muggles," he began. "We lived like 'em. We did business like 'em. We did politics like 'em." He came to one of the officers and kicked up the dirt-tracked slush in his face. "We had no friends in the magic world 'cause of that."

He crouched down low, so that he saw face-to-face with them. "Let me give ya some history to chew on," he growled. "I'll make ya regret everythin' ya did to us."

"If ya know ya Muggle history - and I sincerely believe ya don't." He rose to his feet to give another sharp kick at one of them; it didn't matter which, he couldn't tell. "My motherland was under Soviet rule durin' the threat of Grindelwald. A Muggle - the great Joseph Stalin - was in power. He had a secret police force to maintain his authority." He highlighted his lesson with several swift kicks and blows wherever he saw fit. After all, the Muggle police never come to this area; here was the center of the London slums. 

"Muggles now know it as the KGB, Committee of State Security; Cheka was our code name. The Cheka was the greatest force in the nation. It was everywhere ya looked: in the streets, in the country, in the homes. Members of the Cheka knew all and controlled all. Comrade Felix Dzerzhinsky was its leader. And I was one of his top lieutenants." Jarohnen grinned. "I brought power and wealth to my clan. We lived like royalty while the Muggle peasants starved in the streets. Speak the name Ianikit and people trembled. Praise the name Ianikit and ya were praising a family second only to Lenin and God."

His captives could only listen with mute obedience. One was already knocked out cold; her blood stained the snow dark red.

"But we were good wolves," he went on, his tone growing darker. "We hated Grindelwald; his cruelty, his viciousness, his greed. We wanted to help ya. Yet in the end, ya let all of us die. The Ministry betrayed us." He sat down in the snow next to the first man, the one who initially addressed him. "In the days after, the papers were filled with details of this attack on our clan house. My brother's family and I made it to Kronstadt by then. Yet the others were dead. Do ya want to me to tell ya how I knew?" He grabbed the man's uniform collar and shook him when he didn't answer. "Ya want to know??"

A limp nod of the head. Jarohnen let go and the man dropped back onto the ground. 

"I read how my family died in the goddamn newspaper! Plastered around in the _Daily Prophet_ like some cheap advertising. Like a fuckin' thrill novel..." His voice dropped dangerously soft. "My wife was ya spy," he whispered. "Do ya want to see how she died?"

The officer looked up at him through his one good eye; the other already swollen shut. This man was young, as was all of them; too young to have even remembered Grindelwald anywhere other than in a textbook. He managed to speak through a garbled voice. "You're insane."

The Ianikit laughed. "Not insane," he said softly. "Just vengeful."

He got up to his feet, calmly brushed the snow off his worn slacks, and backed away, leveling his wand arm at the beaten group. "May your souls burn in hell," he ended solemnly. A final sweep of his arm. "_Crucio!_"

Wild screams of pain echoed off into the night air.

Chapter 27

The plane tickets were too expensive. £ 377 for a one way to Boston, £ 436 to New York, £ 354 to Raleigh. Not including tax. And those were the only flights to America. Flying into Europe... Lupin wasn't sure if he could risk it. First off, he didn't know where to forge a passport for Mary; the street prices were £ 1,000 at the lowest. Second, it had been over a month since that full moon in Havenshire.... a month is a long time. Enough time to have all the continental countries on high alert, and would take only a few minutes to assemble a police force anywhere. Who knows; probably the Registry already put him on international fugitive status. For some reason, Lupin found this slightly amusing. Sirius had international fugitive status; it was odd to think he was on par with him on that level.

That was why he and Mary were standing outside a small alley-way shop outside of Gatwick. Night had fallen by this time. The alley was dark and piled with snow, and the store was filled with light and warmth. Its front boasted a glass display window lined with iron bars. Within, several hunting rifles were displayed. A small wooden sign announced to the world what type of store it was: Humprey's Hunting and Fishing. It was pure luck that Lupin found it; it would be anyone's luck to be able to stumble upon this small place. "You're sure that you don't want to come inside?" Lupin asked Mary.

He could tell that Mary didn't like this shop. She leaned her back against the opposite brick wall of a neighboring building. "Yes," she said. He could see her breath when she said it. It was getting cold out tonight. 

"Here," Lupin took off his jacket and wrapped it around Mary's shoulders. "I'll be back soon." With that, he stepped into the shop alone.

When the door opened, a little bell rung, signaling his coming. Yet the store was small; the back counter barely four yards away. A young-old man stood behind it and looked up from his magazine. "Welcome," he greeted warmly. "How may I be of service?"

Lupin was to the point. "I know this place specializes in rifles and such, but I wanted to know whether you had knowledge of any other types of firearms?"

"Well, I just might." The man put his elbows on top of the glass countertop. Lupin presented his gun.

"Hmmm... this looks a bit old..." The man picked it up, and went over the smooth steel with dainty fingers as he examined it. "Colt 45LC. Type, revolver. Grip, cowboy. Good condition." The held the weapon at different angles, squinting one eye as he checked the sight. "Nicely balanced. Sight, fixed... When did you last use this?"

"Not for a couple years," Lupin replied coolly. "Used to go target practicing, but dropped the hobby for awhile. Wanted to pick it back up again so..."

"Ah." The man nodded knowingly. "Well, do you see this bit of rust here?" He pointed to a reddish patches around the trigger. "Could be a bit weak on the inside, I dunno. And the grip is old... this was made before safety locks were required, correct?"

"Bought it in 1978. Used."

"Okay, pal." The shopkeeper put the weapon down, satisfied. "Well, I just want to let you that she looks pretty old. She might give a sharp recoil upon first firing. And with the grip you use here..." He gestured to the humped curve of the handle. "If you're holding her the wrong way while shooting, you could hurt your wrist pretty badly. But I expect that you wouldn't have a problem like that, if you're familiar with her."

Lupin acknowledged this. Since he had never fired the weapon before, it would be a good thing to keep in mind.

"Do you think you have any ammunition for this?"

"I'll check the back room." The man got up from his stool and left for a few moments. Lupin examined the utility knives displayed behind the glass while he was gone. Should he get one of those too? No, the ammunition was enough. 

He knew that Jarohnen Ianikit must have his wand; it was in pocket of the robe he gave him. But Lupin was reassured that if Jarohnen found it, he wouldn't do anything rash. Hopefully, he wouldn't do anything...

"Today's your lucky day." The man came back holding a small cardboard box. "Found this buried in the corner. Only six rounds, though. May I see some identification?"

Lupin quickly presented his Muggle ID and gun license. 

He carefully checked both items over. "Hmmm... okay Mr. Gardiner," the man said, reading off the license. "That'll be £ 48.54." Money exchanged hands and the weapon and ammunition was put into a paper bag. "Thank you very much, and have a nice day."

"You too," Lupin said in return, carrying the paper bag out with him. 

"What did you buy?" Mary asked him when he came back out.

"Just something that'll come in handy," he said. He quickly put it in his case. 

"Is it another gun?" she asked uncomfortably.

"No, it isn't, Mary. It's ammunition."

"Am-mu..."

"Bullets," he simplified shortly.

Mary looked even more uncomfortable. "But why couldn't you use your magic?"

"Sometimes, magic cannot be used in all situations," he answered quickly. "Now let's go."

Mary hurried her steps in order to catch up with him. "Where now?"

"Out of town," he answered firmly. Saying that was better than admitting he wasn't exactly sure where they were going at all.

***

"I'm 'ave no idea what you are talking about," Claire repeated irritably. She slumped in her chair and crossed her arms. "Last time ze RMC came, zey totally destroyed my Safehouse looking for a man zat certainly wasn't zair. And still you bring me in for questioning about zis... zis..." She sighed. "I'm sorry, what was 'is name again?"

"Remus Lupin," the interrogator replied in an equally annoyed voice. "I told you the suspect's name three times already, Madame. Certainly you should remember by now."

"Oh." Claire put a hand to her forehead, leaning her elbow against the table. "I'm sorry, Agent Yoshimoro, but my mind seems to be all mixed up today."

"It's all right. Here, I'll write the name down if it's so hard for you to recall." The lady did and handed Claire the slip of paper. "Reading something always helps me remember." Agent Yoshimoro wondered about her suspect's mental capacity for a second time during this questioning, then repeated her inquiry. "Did Remus Lupin or Jarohnen Ianikit stop by your Safehouse tonight?"

"I told you I've never seen or 'eard of a -" Claire glanced down at the card "- Remus Lupin before in my life, but Jarohnen 'as been staying at my Safehouse in London for ze past ten years. 'E's a regular who now comes in every winter. 'E used to stay all year, but I suppose he got tired of being cooped up in one place."

"Was Ianikit at your Safehouse today?"

"Of course," Claire answered confidently. "Jaroh never set a foot out ze door."

"Are you sure?" Yoshimoro pressed.

"Positive."

The MLES officer glanced at the Sneakoscope lying on the table. It had not moved an inch since the interrogation started; obviously then Madame de Chien-Loup couldn't have been pulling any type of deception. But her behavior, however, was certainly odd.

_Knock, knock._

The door to the interrogation room opened and three officers stepped in. By their navy blue and red uniforms, one could tell they were from the Registry of Magical Creatures. Claire narrowed her eyes at the head of the group. "Mind if I take over, Amy?" Detective Agent Parsons asked pleasantly.

"Sure." Yoshimoro got up and handed him the file. "Something's strange about this one," she whispered in his ear. "Either she's fudging something or suffering from a severe mental lapse."

Parsons nodded, and took a seat at the small white table, while his two companions stood on either side of him silently. The only source of light was a single hanging lamp, leaving him surrounded in shadow. He then folded his hands together and greeted mildly, "Nice to see you again, Madame de Chien-Loup."

"My pleasure," Claire said stiffly in return.

Parsons got right down to business. "I believe you were giving Agent Yoshimoro some difficulty with the interrogation."

"Strange to think zat ze MLES could be involved wiz zis," she commented in return. "I thought zey were ze wizard police."

The RMC officer actually went out of his way to address this remark. "Remus Lupin apparently fits both wizard and werewolf legal categories. So this is a joint venture for between the RMC and the MLES. Surprised that you're not familiar with our culprit."

A wandering thought to the contrary lurked in the back of Claire's mind at this comment. She knew something before, but somehow erased it from her mind; she read a note apparently written by herself confirming this. The note also said to cooperate with the police even though Claire couldn't think of a reason otherwise. 

Today had obviously been a strange one, because of certain blank spots. Like someone left today for somewhere. And there was someone else in her living room as well whom Antonia was talking with. But she couldn't recall the people who filled in those gaps. This annoyed her in a sense; it made her feel like she was losing her mind.

"Why should I know 'im?"

Parsons chuckled. "He is the only werewolf in modern English wizard history to be permitted spell-casting abilities by the Ministry," he answered knowingly. "Certainly a wolf like that would be idolized in your community." He arched an eyebrow at her. "And you say you can't even recall his name?"

"Well, I 'aven't been myself lately," Claire snapped, taking offense. "Maybe I do know 'im, just not off ze top of my 'ead."

"Uh-huh..." Parsons picked out another point. "And Jarohnen Ianikit, you claim, had never left your Safehouse all day?"

" 'E was in 'is room..." she trailed off. Something was wrong here.

"Madame, I'm afraid I have to say that you have been mistaken about that." Parsons expression turned from calm neutrality to a grim severity. "Ianikit was found less than half and hour ago, a few blocks from your Safehouse." He leaned forward and spoke with steely emotion in his voice. "He had tortured and killed five MLES officers."

Claire met his stare. "You're lying."

"I am not,_ wolf_." He abruptly got up from his seat. "Come with me."

He didn't wait for Claire to get up herself. His two officers came to her seat and roughly escorted her out into the narrow hallway. Claire wormed her away out of their grasp and glared at them, darting a few steps ahead. Next door, another interrogation was occurring. Parsons tapped the back of his fist against the glass of the door's built-in window. 

Claire peered inside. Another RMC officer had a Quick-Quotes Quill and was rapidly scribbling down notes from the interrogated suspect. Across the table, Jarohnen was slumped over, his eyes dull and glazed. His hands were chained behind his back, and a metal contraption was snapped over the lower half of his face.

"_You put a muzzle on 'im?_" Claire growled. 

Parsons had reduced back into insipid mode again. "It was for his own good," he replied. 

Claire glanced back at the window. The room was soundproof, and she could see Jarohnen's lips move languidly to answer the questions.

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"Oh? Putting the blame on me all of a sudden?" Again, Parson's eyebrow lifted. "The wolf is under the Veritaserum Potion. Don't worry, he won't be harmed any further for the time being."

"Why are you doing zis?"

"I told you already, he killed five of our officers. Can you guess how?"

Claire backed away from the door, not wanting to hear the answer.

Parsons faced her, wanting to see her reaction. "He was using Remus Lupin's wand, Madame. Now how do you think he could have gotten hold of that?"

She stuttered, although she had no idea why. "I- I don't know..."

Agent Parsons turned back around and started walked forward. So did his officers; Claire was pushed along with the group. "I know you're hiding something," he said lightly over his shoulder. "We'll get it out of you, one way or another, Madame. But let me tell you this now." He paused, as if for effect. Claire felt like spitting at his backside in that moment, but remained inept. "If you think that you can hide anything from us, Madame, I'm afraid you're wrong. And you will suffer the consequences..."


	8. The Wolf

For disclaimer and additional notes see part 1.

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Eight: The Wolf

by D.M.P.

***

L'homme n'est pas ni ange ni bête, et le malheur veut que qui veut faire l'ange fait la bête.

Man is neither angel nor beast. Unfortunately, he who wants to act the angel often acts the beast.

-Pascal, _Pensées_, pt. 6, no. 358.

***

Chapter 28

"Are you cold, Mary?"

"....."

"Mary?"

"No..." The answer came out too slowly to be true. 

Lupin wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "We're just going to stay here for tonight," he told her. "Then, I'll take us somewhere better."

Here was a dimly-lit underground subway station. Apparently, it was one of the older ones - cracked, worn titles lined the walls with black dirt filling in the mortar. The concrete floors were layered with dust and slush tracks from above-ground newcomers. Florescent lighting highlighted the urban burrow, and the constant rumble of passing trains vibrated through the air.

Lupin managed to claim a space for them in the farthest bench away from the flight of steps that lead to the open night. It was away from the underground lights and gave him a false sense of privacy. Also, the spot was the warmest place in the station - relatively - except for the occasional moments when a frosty gale would swoop down the stairwell to nip at their exposed hands and noses.

Mary sniffed. Lupin handed her a tissue. This was her eighth in the past half-hour; her nose had slowly transformed into a dripping faucet from the north wind visits. She was probably developing a cold. Lupin hoped not. He had enough on his mind already and couldn't afford child sickness to be added to the list.

She remained immobile, leaning her small form against his. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets, too weary and cold to leave the bit of warmth. Lupin leaned in with the tissue. He draped it over her nose.

"Now blow," he instructed.

She did - it sounded like a small foghorn - and Lupin threw the used tissue over toward the subway tracks.

"Why can't we go back to the Safehouse?" she whispered tiredly, sniffing her nose again.

Lupin didn't want to think about that. "We'll go somewhere better," he reassured her again. 

"Where?"

"Like to the shore."

Lupin thought this decision out very carefully. He had counted the money Claire had given to him - there was a little under five hundred on him now. He'd have to use it wisely, meaning certainly they couldn't spend it on frivolous needs. Made they could hitch a ride to Brighton, he reasoned. The resort town was in off-season. A nice, scenic college city boarded up for the winter. Perfect place for the traveling werewolf. If they needed to leave in a hurry, there were always ferries that crossed over to France or Spain... He'd find a way to avoid customs, he was sure. 

"The shore?" she murmured.

"You already saw London," he continued on. "Why not see the ocean too?"

"But I want to go back to the Safehouse. See Madame de Chien-Loup. Mr. Jarohnen promised me another lesson."

Claire's hurried good-bye, pushing him out the door - there was a sense of urgency she had there.... God, how did she handle the MLES.... Jarohnen's hunched back darting around the corner - yes, he had his wand, didn't he? Lupin had to figure out a way to meet up with him and get it back...

"We'll see them again someday..." he reassured her. "Just don't think about them now..."

"The coppers aren't going to get them, right?" she asked. Her voice was quieter; she was beginning to slump over. Lupin looked over at her. She was falling asleep. Of course, it must be very late.... Lupin checked his watch. Half-past midnight.

"Never," he said. "They're not in trouble with them. Madame would just have a little talk with the police and that would be all."

"Okay Remmy..." Mary was too sleepy to negate that.

"We'll be down in Brighton for awhile. The sea isn't as pretty now as it is during the summer, but it would be nice to spend Christmas there." The realization that Christmas was only a few weeks away surprised him even as he mentioned it. Winter was here and they had no place to go... but, indeed, Brighton was the perfect town to find shelter... College pubs and the like... Students would be off on vacation... Cheap housing, possibly even a hostel... hmmm... Store prices should be lower during off-season, and no buggy tourist traps about either... Maybe he could break into an empty beach house or one of those little cottages by the shore.... 

"That... would be nice..." she murmured, referring to his comment about Brighton. She snuggled against his side. "I think... I have an aunty by the shore..."

"Really?" 

Mary murmured something else under her breath, about an Aunt Rachel and home-baked cookies. "We'll visit her, right?"

"I don't know..." Either she forgot about the restriction against seeing her family, or she was too tired to recall it. Lupin didn't bother to remind her. It wasn't likely that she had relatives in Brighton anyhow.

She steered herself away from the topic. "Tell me about the ocean...."

"All right." Lupin sighed and stared out past the steel and concrete station surroundings. "Well, just imagine endless water," he said softly. "You could just stand in one place and all you can see is blue forever and ever, touching the sky. And a little dark ridge on the horizon - that's the continent. But it seems so far away from where you're standing, almost like another world."

"Um-hmmmm.."

"And the water isn't flat. It moves in waves and ripples, hitting the sand in front of you. Making little lapping motions like-" Lupin moved his free arm up and down, imitating the motion. "It just goes on and on.... The ocean gives you the impression that it's eternal. How the crisp wind blows over the waves and through your hair - that's eternal. How the sand always gives way to the water without running out - that's eternal. How the sea smells like..." He groped for the right words, "like a salt essence that's in your blood. That keeps you alive. That's eternal."

Mary's head drooped against his shoulder, barely awake.

"Blue forever?" she mumbled. "Like in Heaven?"

"Yes." Lupin sighed, closing his eyes. "And it goes on, my girl. Forever and ever..."

***

Claire was in a different room this time. Well, it had to be a different room anyhow. The bare plastered walls, the metal table, the stiff-backed chairs, the hanging lamp - exactly the same as the previous interrogation room. But it wasn't the same because Agent Parsons and his government henchmen had half-lead, half-forced her down a maze of narrow hallways of the Ministry to this room. Therefore, it had to be special for some reason, despite its degrading uniformity.

She had been shut in here for who knows how long. Claire had no watch on, and counted her minutes by pacing the small room. After awhile she had wondered whether the police had forgotten about her. Or maybe they had surveillance in the room. Yet if so, what were they waiting for? For her to confess whatever they needed out of pure boredom? She still didn't know what they wanted, and this captivity was irritating her beyond belief. Something about a wizard... damn, she forgot his name again...

She sat down for the umpteenth time at the small table and stared at the closed door. Actually, she suddenly realized that this room looked oddly familiar, and not because every other interrogation room looked exactly like this. Hmmm... this place, now that she thought about it, reminded Claire of the Safehouse she maintained. That would say a lot about her taste in decor.

The door finally swung open. Parsons and a thin woman with a pinched face walked into the room. His police thugs were nowhere to be seen.

"Glad to see that you're still up." The RMC official's voice, however, did not express any happiness at all. He sat down across from her and folded his hands on the table. The thin woman stood next to Claire and stared at her through small, watery eyes. In her arms was a thick folder filled with loose-leaf papers. Claire's file. The folder was blue, indicating that she wasn't a born in the United Kingdom, but a werewolf from an outside country. Any wolf that immigrated to the country was required to hand over a copy of their personal records. 

"What do you think, Gertrude?" Parsons asked the thin woman.

Gertrude said nothing in reply. Instead she directed a question at Claire in a dry, cracking voice. "What is your name?" 

"Cl-" she began.

"Your full name." The watery eyes narrowed at her with contempt.

Claire sighed. "Claire Hélène Bisclavret de Chien-Loup."

Gertrude's hand slipped into the manila folder and her eyes zipped across the front page. "Yes...." she verified, tipping her head up and down. 

"Werewolf registration number?"

"4678."

"Do you know what today's date is?"

"November 26 at least. You 'ave no clocks 'ere, I can't be sure."

"Do you know where you are?"

"I 'ave no idea."

Gertrude's eyes narrowed. "Say that you are at Ministry headquarters, within the RMC division."

"Fine."

"Hmuf." Another shuffle of papers. "Have you any immediate relations?"

"Two brothers."

"And their names?" 

"Bernard and Caleb." Claire's nerves were being to wear thin.

More nodding. "Do you know a Remus Lupin?"

"Who?"

Gertrude's eyes whipped back up to glare at her. "Do you know," she seemed to stress every syllable consciously, "a Remus Lupin?" she repeated, her voice like gravel.

"No, I do not," Claire mimicked in an innocent sort of way.

"She's lying."

The reply lashed out with surprising speed. "Lying?" she retorted. " 'Ow can you say?"

Yet the other woman insisted. "Clear signs of deception, detective." She tilted her head to the side in a crow-like fashion. "I've seen her kind before. You have my permission to proceed."

"Proceed wiz what?" the werewolf demanded.

"Thank you, Gertrude," the RMC officer nodded. "I'd like to interrogate her myself now."

"Your welcome." A quick turn of heel and she was gone. The door locked behind her with a sharp _click_. Claire and Parsons were alone. 

A brief period of silence followed. Claire straightened her posture, becoming alarmingly aware that they were by themselves. An uneasy feeling filled the room; this was different than any of the other times he confronted her before. A sudden nervousness besieged her with a quickening of the pulse and shallowness of breath. Across the table, her interrogator, as always, was the expert at being stolid. Yet there was a strange flicker in his eyes, something that she had not seen during the failed Safehouse sweep. 

She broke the silence. "No ozzars zis time?" she inquired.

"They're not needed for this interrogation," Parsons replied simply. He rose to his feet. The instinct came to jump up herself, but she forced it down.

He came to her side, leaning one hand on the table while the other rested on the back of her chair. Her instincts tugged at her again, yet she stared straight ahead. Her hands were clenched underneath the tabletop.

She said, keeping her restraint, "And why not?"

Claire could feel his breath down her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She couldn't turn her head, afraid to think that he was so close to her.

"I expect this to be very straightforward." His voice was close to her ear. Too close.

"What if it isn't?"

"I'll make sure it is."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand leave the tabletop. Her nearest arm jerked up, fist sideways for a quick blow. In a lightning move, he grabbed that free arm. Claire immediately pushed herself onto her feet. In the process, the chair crashed to the floor. She leaped back over the upturned chair, trying to make some space between them. However, Parsons held her forearm with an iron grip.

"Don't. You. Dare," she growled.

"Dare what?" Persons reached into his robes. Claire kicked out at the chair. Unfortunately, she used her left side and the weaker leg barely rocked the piece of furniture. But her sudden movement made Parsons falter and he let go.

Claire jumped back and took hold of the chair legs, hoisting it up between them.

Persons was not taken back. "I will use force if need be, Madame," he threatened.

He could. One flick of a wand and she'd be his. She stood firm, trying to get a better grip of the chair. But it was too cumbersome for her to manage; one throw led to a poor shot as the bulky object crashed into the table. 

The noise was tremendous and Claire had a fervent hope that it would attract some outside help, even if was just another agent coming in to check. Yet she then remembered that all the interrogation rooms were soundproof.

"Pull that chair back up," he ordered. He still didn't take out his wand. This surprised her. When she did nothing, he righted it himself and sat down, propping his elbows up on his knees. In this disalarming position, he addressed her again. "Why so hostile?" he asked, his voice bordering on casual. 

She only stared at him, refusing to let her guard down.

"We could go on like this all night," he continued. He didn't sound like he minded this at all. In fact - Claire was afraid to realize - he might be even enjoying himself. 

Parsons got up and took a leisurely deep breath, like a closed-mouthed yawn. Claire's heart felt like it could stop. Her body already felt cold and distant, she could just be dead already... just dead, not here, ... God, she wished she was - just let her leave - just make Parsons stop looking at her that way-

If she could just - just.... A rebellious voice in the back of her mind shouted that she could do something, she could kill him, steal his wand and use it against him.... Learn a lesson from Jarohnen and kill him on the spot. However, a shamefully weak emotion prevailed: feminine terror.

He was by her side once more. "Open your mouth," he commanded.

She refused, turning her head away. His hand reached out and grabbed her chin, lifting it up to face him. Her body stiffened in panic. Parsons free hand slipped into his robes...

...and a small crystal bottle was drawn out.

"Open up," he repeated, flipping open the cap with his thumb.

She stared up at him, trying to rein in her feelings of rage and fear. What was that? A poison? A knock-out drug? He wasn't going to-? No, no, she didn't even want to think of it.... 

Parsons' long face retained its horribly cool expression, but she knew that he took pleasure in every moment of toying with her. "Do I have to pry your mouth open as well?" he asked stiffly.

She wanted to add something defiant then, like, "You might as well," but the terror paralyzed her. Anyhow, speaking might give him an opening to force that liquid - whatever it was - down her throat. 

"It's the Veritaserum," Parsons went on briskly. "The criminal profiler just gave me permission to use it during the questioning." His other hand was still cupping her chin. His fingers trailed down along the hollow of her throat, yet his eyes trailed down even further. "What did you think I was attempting to do?"

Her fear was instantly replaced by rage. He knew all too well what she thought he was attempting to do! That jackass, he simply loved playing these damn mind games...

His fingers reached up and pried her mouth open. She balked and bit down.

"Argh!" He released his hold. Her hands reached for his belt. "You bitch!" He slammed her against the wall. She kneed him in the groin and both toppled together onto the floor. 

Parsons landed on top. The bottle skidded across the ground, potion spilling. Claire felt the holster where the wand was kept and jerked at it. Parsons rolled back and wrapped his hands around her neck. He strangled her; Claire pulled the wand out from his robes; his left hand groped about to snatch it away; with his right, she was pushed into the floor by the neck, her airway cut off-

She was waving the wand alongside the ground, a stifled hiss emerging from her lips. "Ava - da - avada..."

Parsons stopped attempting for his wand and grasped at the bottle off the floor. Still a few drops. With a vicious down thrust he wedged the bottle to her mouth and tipped it forward.

On instant reaction, her back arched up and the wand slipped from her hand. She gagged wildly and tried pushing him off her. He straddled her waist, baring his weight furiously against her, ramming the Veritaserum bottle until all of its contents drained down her throat. Something like a muffled growl worked its way from around the bottle; she was trying to scream hell into his ear. She couldn't breathe; Parsons' hand was at her neck; she couldn't swallow the Veritaserum. The instinct of spitting up came to her and then he let go. The potion coursed down her throat like quicksilver. Parsons tossed the bottle away. Checkmate. The victory was his.

For a few silent moments before the potion set in, Claire stared up at him, her chest heaving as her lungs satisfied their need for air. His eyes were mirrors of hers, containing malice and insult. He was beyond anger - verging into recklessness - and so was she. Yet he was in a better position to commit his recklessness.

It was then her eye noticed that his hand over her bosom, feeling it rise and fall. She raised up her gaze at him again only to have their noses bumped together as he forced his lips upon hers.

The back of her head slammed into the ground again as he bore down upon her with his mouth and tongue. His hands grasped at her like leeches. She felt his assault but could not block it; the potion was working on her mind; her focus was clouding up... He yanked at her braid and freed his mouth from hers. She yelled. The world began to spin before her eyes. She tried to hit him, to kick him, to hurt him. He had the hem of her robes in his hand; he was pushing her knees apart. She was swearing, cursing, crying. Yet her limbs were growing heavy and weak. Her arms dropped limply to the ground, defeated. 

With her surrender, his attack halted. He then seemed to have realize something of the most horrible consequence, yet his face showed nothing but the vaguest sense of disgust. Pushing her away from him, Parsons quickly got to his feet. He notched his belt and buttoned up his robes. He averted his eyes for a long moment, his back turned to her. Claire pulled herself up to a sitting position, clumsily yanking the hem of her robes down over her legs. Her vision was swimming in front of her; she felt as if she was going to be sick... This was only a nightmare - wake up, wake up, Claire... 

When Parsons faced her again the bewildered expression was quickly fading, replaced by his former arrogance. A glint of that old anger returned to his eye. 

He lowered his hands down by his side, hands balled into fists. A bitter retort lashed out. "What did _you_ try to do??" 

She?? Claire returned with an expression of pure hatred. His boot jerked out, kicking her in the stomach. The blow hurt; she doubled over on the floor, groaning. "What were you trying to do, wolf-?"

He made one other final comment. Whether it was directed to her or himself no one but him will ever know. "I do _not_ indulge in bestiality."

She wasn't in the state to respond. The only thought in her mind was that he stopped. He stopped. And then, the logic turned to nothing. The dim lamplight fractured into a million hazy glowing speaks and the world dispersed into blobs and dots. Claire tried lifting a hand to her head, but suddenly her limbs felt as if they were made of lead.... She couldn't move... The floor leaped towards her... She was falling.... No, she was flying...

Parsons hauled Claire to her feet and dumped her into the chair like a sack of flour. Her eyes became dull and dilated by the potion, her face and body totally slack. The next thing she heard was a low, indistinct thundering.

"Whhhhaaatt isssss youuurrrr nammmmeeee?"

That voice.... Where was it coming from....? Slowly, Claire raised her head. She felt dizzy, almost like she was falling asleep but not quite... 

The RMC officer had returned to his spot opposite of her. He was taking something out.... a bit of white.... and something flat...... She vaguely wondered what these things were, but didn't feel like bothering to try and ask. Yes, she didn't feel like freely talking at all.... 

"Whhhaaattt isss youuurrr nammmeee?" 

The voice was booming in her head..... It pounded her skull.... Claire stared ahead.... Something in her mind was pulling at her... Couldn't tell exactly what....

"Claire Hélène Bisclavret de Chien-Loup."

Her voice... It didn't sound quite right.... She didn't feel quite right at all, really... How unbelievably odd, this sensation was.... But she had to answer.... Something in her mind willed her to do so....

"Whaaaattt isssss youuuurrrr werrrewolffff reggggissstraaationnn nummmberrr?"

"4678."

"Do youuuu knowww a Remusss Lupinnn?"

"Yes."

Claire saw the man do something.... couldn't focus... the little bit of white fluff danced across the paper.... It was a Quick Quotes Quill.... Yes, that's it....

"Havvee youu evvverrr sppokkennn withhh Remusssss Lupinnnn?"

"Yes."

"Innn whattt circummstanccee?"

"Remus came to my Safehouse about a month and a 'alf ago," she answered, voice dull. "'E 'ad a child in 'is possession. A young girl named Mary Grisham. 'E asked if zey could stay and I agreed."

Parsons moved a bit in his chair.

"Go onnn..."

And Claire did. The Quick Quotes Quill zoomed across the paper, scratching down the condemning words.

***

Mary Grisham was alive. 

Agent Parsons pondered that extraordinary revelation as he sat on the end of an old couch lined with dragon hide, the most comfortable piece of furniture in the MLES break room. It was one of the many government staff rooms at the Ministry (there were twenty in all, one for each branch and subdivision that was headquartered there), but he came here to find Agent Yoshimoro. Yoshimoro was recently assigned his partner for the Ianikit RMC/MLES joint venture; he had to share this with her, for he interviewed Madame de Chien-Loup about the Russian wolf as well.

The officer in question was reading over his shoulder as they went through Parsons' interrogation. It would be curious to note that the written report had no description about the actions that took place before the questioning began.

"I can't believe it," she was murmuring under her breath. "Lupin actually got away with creating a pup..."

"I know," Parsons flatly agreed. "Then again," he added, "no one even considered that the girl might had lived through such an ordeal." 

"At least he didn't kill her."

True, Lupin hadn't killed a Muggle; he only converted her into a Dark Creature like himself. The fact disturbed Parsons. While Yoshimoro would disagree, he wasn't thankful at all that the girl lived. There was now a small wolf pack on the loose, not just one fugitive. A werewolf is dangerous enough, but a pack - even only a duo - can be ten times more dangerous. 

That thought of werewolf procreation turned to other, darker thoughts. Thoughts that made Persons feel suddenly irritated. He handed the stack over to his partner got up to pour himself a cup of tea from the side counter. He might as well take some; it was nearly 1:30 AM and he could use a pick-me-up. 

"So," Yoshimoro inquired, "is Madame de Chien-Loup still in custody?"

"I put her under arrest as soon as the questioning was finished." Parsons mixed in a lump of sugar in with his tea. "The quill mentioned the self-incrimination on the second page. She's an illegal spell-caster. Self-induced herself into forgetting them."

Yoshimoro raised her eyes off the paper for a moment. Wizard law stated that any suspect taken in was allowed to have a lawyer present before he was questioned, so his constitutional rights wouldn't be violated. But then she remembered - werewolves had no constitutional rights in the United Kingdom. 

"Does she remember Lupin now?"

"Nope, the Forget Spell will override her memory of him in the interrogation. But she has done a terrible job; a child could remove that spell."

"Why don't you?"

He looked at her questionably. "Why should I?"

What became of Madame de Chien-Loup was that she was left in the interrogation room, still drugged from the Veritaserum Potion. Parsons had sent for one of his Agents lead her to the cell. After that helpful questioning, she was of no use to him, but he put her under the RMC custody anyway. After all, she had violated the Werewolf Code of Conduct, practicing magic.

Madame de Chien-Loup could get heavily fined for that. Or six months in the Non-Wizard, Part-Human Creatures Penitentiary. Or even both. The fines would certainly take away all the money she possessed. Also, the RMC could shut down her Safehouse program in Great Britain and recommend the continental governments to do the same. 

Parsons heard Yoshimoro sigh to herself and glanced at her. Amy Yoshimoro had a rosy face with round chipmunk cheeks that matched with her short, plump figure. Tonight, however, had put a strain on her expression, which was now languid and pale. And the night's work was long from over.

He poured another cup of tea and walked back to her. "Want this?"

"Cheers," she said absentmindedly, taking the offering. She blew over the steaming surface and took a sip. " 'Jarohnen Ianikit was a street wolf I met ten years ago,' " she read softly, " 'He was the founder of the Freedom Hounds and wanted to start an underground revolution to bring magic rights to the werewolf public. In my enthusiasm, I agreed to make the London Safehouse his headquarters. He later stole second-hand spell books for my wizard education and taught me everything he knew. This information he had garnered from his wife, who was a spy for the Ministry during the Grindlewald years....' Do you have his file?"

"Yes." He picked up the manila folders from the counter with a sweep of his hand.

Yoshimoro quickly leafed through them. "We have to get a RMC team to look up the Freedom Hounds...." she said. "Some other wolves were reported to be residing at the Safehouse. You think they are the same?"

"No doubt. I already sent a search team to track them down," he told her, "If they haven't fled the city, they're going to be in our custody by tomorrow night - I mean, tonight."

"Wonderful. I hope the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures gets Ianikit executed," she said bitterly, "along with his whole pack."

"It's a whole revolt waiting to happen," Parsons agreed. "If we aren't able to control these creatures, they will try an uprising against us. I've been telling my superior that for years."

"I never knew Magical Animal Regulation could be this dangerous..." She put the papers down on the couch armrest and fiddled with the empty cup in her hands, eyes downcast.

"Did you know any of the officers killed?" The question came out as a cold inquiry, but Agent Yoshimoro didn't notice.

"I went to the Academy with two of them. We were part of the same class." Agent Yoshimoro shook her head. "If I was out there tonight..."

"Werewolves are unpredictable beasts," Parsons rationalized. "Your training hadn't prepared you or them-" he referred to the deceased officers - "in handling feral animals."

A third officer came in. "The reporters have just flew in and they're waiting in the press room. They want to speak with the both of you," he told them.

Parsons nodded and waved a hand as if shooing him away. "We'll be out in a moment," he said.

"The press is here already? They're terrible," Yoshimoro said. 

"News hounds are always that way," Parsons put in lightly. "All of the papers have been clawing at me for the week and a half since unconfirmed reports went about that we had a suspect for the Havenshire attack. Keeping that case private has been horrendous." 

Yoshimoro couldn't help but look at Parsons with slight disbelief, as if she marveled at the fact he could feel pressured. "Why keep the Havenshire case private?"

"It wasn't my idea, but my superior's," he replied. "The entire Registry has been divided over the issue. They're afraid that if this investigation goes public, anti-lycanthrope riots will break out." He looked over at her. "Ever heard of the St. Petersburg incident?"

She nodded silently. "And the Ianikit case would only make the tension worse."

"True."

A moment of silence passed. "Isn't it ironic," Yoshimoro observed thoughtfully, "that Ianikit's own vengeful act could start something similar to what led to his clan's very downfall?"

"Wolves can be very dim that way. Few possess practical hindsight."

The two dumped their Styrofoam cups and left the break room, heading down the labyrinth of corridors and hallways to a set of tan double doors. From behind them were loud murmurs of newspaper reporters and sounds of magical TV equipment being set up. 

Parsons opened the door and gave a slight bow. "Ladies first." Yoshimoro sighed and walked past him into the crowded room.

Instantly, she was enveloped with flashes from a dozen magical cameras. Reporters immediately stood up from their folded chairs and pointed their quills toward her, shouting questions. Large brilliant globes used for set lighting floated forwards, casting beams of light focused down upon the podium as Yoshimoro proceeded to the front of the room onto the platform. A couple TV cameras zoomed in as well, capturing the press conference on film to broadcast later that day. Behind her, Parsons followed and stood next to the podium with his hands behind his back. 

Yoshimoro waved a wand over her throat, whispering, "_Sonorus_." Then, she cleared her throat, and the pressroom hushed. "The MLES and the RMC would like to make an important announcement," she started, her voice now magnified ten times its usual volume. "First off, I would like to thank you all for being able to come at such a short notice." 

A light flashed directly upon Agent Yoshimoro; she raised a hand over her eyes. "Could you please tone that down a bit?"

"Sorry," the technician said and dimmed the light.

"Thank you." Yoshimoro scanned the room. "As you might have heard, last night, November 25 at approximately 9:00 PM, five MLES officers were found murdered in Islington District of North London. We have the culprit - 84 year-old Jarohnen Ianikit, registered werewolf 176. Currently he is being held at this station under maximum security."

A seated reporter raised his quill. He wore a name tag with the label, _The Daily Prophet, Investigative Reporter_.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, pointing at him.

"Exactly how did the wolf slay the officers?" 

"Through the use of a magic wand. The wolf apparently used first the Cruciatus Curse upon the officers, then the _Avada Kedavra_, just before back-up units arrived. Luckily, we had a sharpshooter on hand to who was able render the wolf unconscious through the use of a Stun Spell."

Those words triggered a wave of shocked comments and Quick Quotes Quills flew across parchment scrolls as reporters began firing more questions at her.

"Isn't it illegal for a non-wizard creature to possess a wand?"

"Yes, it is under the Code of Wand Use, clause 3."

"Were there any Muggle witnesses to the incident?"

"None known. However, since the crime scene was a Muggle residential area, the back-up MLES units went door to door with Memory Charms to fix any residential Muggle's memory."

"Isn't there a werewolf Safehouse located nearby? Was the wolf a temporary resident?"

"Currently, we have brought in Madame de Chien-Loup, proprietor of the London Safehouse for questioning. We have also temporary revoked her housing permit."

"Were there any other tenants at the Safehouse?"

"Approximately nine wolves were present; however, they evaded MLES officials after Madame was brought in for questioning. As of now, a RMC team is tracking them down."

"Does the RMC or MLES believe that these wolves have any connection to Ianikit?"

"We are not exactly sure at the moment, but highly suspect that the other wolves do have some connection."

"How did Ianikit get hold of the wand?"

"The wand was owned by Remus Lupin, a werewolf who was granted spell-casting abilities by the Ministry and received a wizard education."

"Why did Remus Lupin give the wand to Ianikit? Do you know what the motive was for either wolf?" another voice called out.

"We're not sure exactly of Ianikit's motive nor the exact circumstances in which he got hold of Lupin's wand. That is under further investigation, but the MLES will inform the public as soon as possible."

"Were you able to contact Lupin about this situation?"

"Um. The RMC and MLES have no comm-" Yoshimoro was then interrupted.

Parsons tapped her on the shoulder, gesturing to take his place on the podium. Yoshimoro drew back and said, "May I introduce Agent Roger Parsons, homicide detective from the Registry of Magical Creatures and my partner on the Ianikit assignment." She stepped back for Parsons.

He quickly put the Sonorus Spell upon himself before taking the stand. "Thank you, Agent Yoshimoro," he said, then turned to the press. "I believe that I would be able to answer that question." He put both hands on the sides of the podium and leaned forward, as if he had something serious to say. "I have been told numerous times by my fellow officers at the RMC not to give out this information. However, I, for one, see that it is vital for the werewolf threat to be known in its entirety, especially since last night's crimes."

The reporters were immediately hooked. Yoshimoro, realizing what he was going to do, glared daggers at him, trying to coax him to stop with discreet hand gestures. Didn't he just tell her the dire consequences of going public with the Havenshire attack? 

"And upon receiving a certain assignment had been handed to me through the Department of Mysteries almost two weeks ago, I have realized that werewolves are becoming increasingly hostile toward humans. Perhaps it is in their nature, or perhaps, they have a more sophisticated scheme in mind." Parsons was becoming uncharacteristically eloquent, building up the suspense in the room. 

From the far back an impatient one cried out, "Well, tell us what it is already!"

Parsons acknowledged the outburst. "Yes, and I feel the wizard world has to know of this." His dark eyes traveled the room, holding the moment. "Over the years, it has become evident that the natural werewolf population is dwindling. In the 1980 Magical Creature census, it has been recorded that there were a little over 20,000 wolves in the world; however in 1990, the number was cut in half to less than 10,000. The natural werewolf population fell tremendously, particularly after the initial defeat of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.

"Surely, the naturals would be eager to increase their numbers," he said slowly, "and would go through drastic measures to do so. Measures that would cost human lives." He drew that sentence out slowly, yet without being melodramatic. Certainly the manipulative fiend.

"An example of their general aggressiveness was last night's violent slaying. Yet an indicator of their willingness to increase their population is what I am about to tell you now, something that directly concerns Remus Lupin. As you may have heard, but has been unconfirmed by other RMC officials, a werewolf attack occurred in the Muggle village of Havenshire a little over a month and a half ago. This was the case I had received from the DM. And I would like to publicly announce that Remus Lupin is our main suspect for this case. He had been placed under international fugitive status, and, I would like to say, he is armed and highly dangerous."

A Chinese writer from the _Beijing Dragon Gazette_ immediately put up his quill. "But if Lupin doesn't possess his wand, how can he be considered dangerous?"

"What he possesses is a more potential danger," Parsons expounded smoothly. "Lupin doesn't have a wand; he has a pup."

Chapter 29

Whiiiiiiiiirrrrrr.........

The soft rumble filled Mary's ears. Her eyes fluttered open to see the inside of a train compartment. She had an aisle seat; Lupin took the window seat and was staring out at the misty pre-dawn. Outside, London's infamous early morning fog had settled in, sinking along the city skyline. The train continued to back up out of the station; the far-off buildings soon began to rush by.

"Where are we going?" she yawned, raising her clenched fists.

"To the shore," he answered in a scratchy voice. His eyes were dull and tired, with heavy bags underneath; he hadn't slept at all, had he? "Remember?" 

His voice was very quiet; she knew he was thinking about something. It was rare for her to see Remmy like this, and usually it was at night, just before he tucked her in. Sometimes, when he hadn't left her to speak with Madame de Chien-Loup, he would sit on his stowaway bed and flip through the pages of his dog-eared Bible with that same air of solitude. Sometimes he would read her a story; but more often, he would take this time for himself. Once, when Mary took a glance at the front pages, she saw an endless line of names. He explained to her that it was his family. Mary thought it was strange and very sad to have a list of names be called your family. 

Mary decided not to ask Remmy how they got on the train while she was still asleep; she didn't want to bother him when he was quiet like this. Besides, he was the cleverest person she had ever known. He probably used his magic.

From her position beside him, she could feel the hard metal lump in his jacket pocket. Before, she was able to forget that he even had a weapon. Guns were illegal to own in England, she knew. Her father told her that a million and one times. That and if you ever, ever, found a gun anywhere, she should tell him. Papa was always worried about guns. A little guilt came over her, as it did before. Maybe she was betraying her parents. But how could that be? It wasn't as if she would ever fire a gun.

"Why did you have a gun," she suddenly asked, "if you have magic?"

Remmy snapped out of his private thoughts and turned from the window. "I thought I told you before," he said.

"Guns are illegal," she cut in stubbornly. "You're not allowed to have one."

"Who said?" he replied calmly.

"My papa."

An indescribable expression passed over his face for a moment. Mary quickly apologized, thinking that she hurt his feelings somehow. "I didn't say it to be mean," she said, "I-I was just thinking..."

Remmy silently reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. "You need an explanation," he said. Flipping it open, he should her the plastic cards that lay inside. "This is my identification," he explained calmly. "This allows me to move about without getting in trouble."

"John Gar..Gardiner," she read slowly from the top card. "Second Class li- li-"

"Lieutenant," he finished. "You can own a gun when you're on duty in the military."

"But are you-?"

"No. But as long as I have papers like this, I can own a weapon."

"So you have pretend papers to help you?" she asked. He nodded.

"Do I need pretend papers too?"

"I'll get some for you," he reassured her. "They're very expensive to get, though."

Mary hadn't asked that question because she wanted them. "But I would still me, right?"

"Why wouldn't you be?" His quiet mood lifted a little. Remmy tilted his head to the side and stared at her with a mock serious expression. "You still look the same. The same blue eyes." He tapped a finger to her nose. "Same button nose."

Mary giggled. "Now you're being silly."

He reached over and contemplated a lock of her hair. "Are you a natural blonde?" he questioned, arching an eyebrow. 

She laughed. "Yes I am...!"

"Maybe it was just a very convincing dye job," he said innocently. "Do you have brown roots? Blondes shouldn't have brown roots."

"Remmy..!"

"Maybe I was fooled all along that you were Mary Grisham by a bleaching kit."

"Well, maybe you're not Remmy Lupin, either," Mary said, joining in. "Maybe we're fooling each other."

"But then how can we tell who's who?" A look of shock crossed his face as he put a hand to his forehead in a melodramatic gesture. "Alas, what tragedy, not knowing who we are!"

"I know who we are," she said.

"And what may that be?"

"We're werewolves." She wasn't afraid of being a werewolf now as she was in the past; this fact she could admit aloud.

"But how can that be?" Remmy asked in a disapproving tone. "Mary really isn't a name for a wolf."

Mary stuck her tongue out at him. "I can be a wolf if I want to be."

"You're too cute to be a wolf," he told her. 

"Really?" she beamed. "Maybe you should call me a lamb then. Papa always called me a lamb."

He said incredulously, "Mary the little lamb?"

"And Remmy the big bad wolf!" she retorted playfully.

"So I'm the big bad wolf?" he pouted. Mary couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his face. 

"Not too bad," she said. She leaned over and wrapped her small arm around his waist and placed her head against his shoulder. Her suspicions about him earlier practically flew out of the train window. 

He did the same as well, pondering a rhetorical question. "The big, bad wolf and the little lamb," he mused to himself. "What a pair we make."

***

She felt ashamed. Bitterly ashamed. To succumb so pathetically to a RMC official, to a wizard, to a _man_. Claire had somewhat prided herself in her ability to handle whatever life threw at her with a stiff upper lip, and she was now becoming a disappointment to herself. 

Claire pounded her fist against the wall jail cell wall. Oh, what was she kidding herself?? She always disappointed herself like this, not just now... She was horribly pathetic. For even after all she has tolerated throughout the years, managing a refuge in one of the world's most anti-lycanthrope hot spots, dealing with international governments in advocating werewolf rights, even those little fanatic stunts with Jarohnen years and years ago... Claire still considered herself a terribly weak-willed person at heart. Anyone else would say that was an obvious falsehood but she'd never believe them.

In her mind, she was a pitiable creature who would never succeed against the antagonistic forces in her life because she was a spoiled aristocrat and a woman.

"Madame de Chien-Loup?"

Claire stiffened and killed her train of thought. She whirled around from her spot on the cot. A MLES agent in front of her cell, that interrogator from before. 

Agent Yoshimoro stood behind the bars. "Did you want a mirror call?" she asked.

Mirror call? Werewolves weren't allowed to contact the outside once in custody. Didn't she know that? Maybe it was because she dealt with wizards, that she was only familiar with their procedure. Claire was grateful and took advantage of that. 

"Oh, yes." She quickly rose to her feet. Noticing her rumpled clothing, she quickly straightened out what she could. Undoing her braid, Claire ran her fingers through her hair as the MLES agent had the guard open up the bar gate. 

"How was your night?" Yoshimoro asked.

"I don't know," she muttered. "'Ow would you feel after sleeping on a zin cot wiz 'orrible springs in a cold jail cell..."

The MLES officer didn't comment on that. "Conference mirror is over here."

"Conference mirror?" Claire scowled. "Don't you 'ave a telephone?"

"Telephone?" Yoshimoro looked confused for a moment. "Oh, a Muggle phone. Sorry," she shook her head. "We don't have those things at here."

The two walked down the hall and came to a closed booth with a mirror inside. Agent Yoshimoro waved her wand to open the sliding door. "You have ten minutes. Know how to use it?" she asked.

"I'll manage." She slipped inside and the MLES agent closed the door behind her. Yoshimoro stood watch outside, waiting for Madame to make the call.

Claire stood up straight in front of the mirror. She didn't want to contact anyone - she hated asking for help - but she knew she couldn't get out of this herself. There were many different contacts she knew, but only a few she trusted with this matter. After all, she didn't want the entire clan to find how her position; how embarrassing would that be? However, her cousin Eunice in La Brague had already enough on her hands with those wolves Claire had sent over to her Safehouse. Her younger brother Caleb was managing the Safehouse in Vienna, and recently, his wife had triplets. Obviously, not a good time for his sister to call and say that she was in jail. There was only one wolf she knew well enough to trust who wasn't distracted with Safehouse duties. 

The decision made, she then addressed the mirror. "I would like to make a long distance call." She wondered if one could make long distance calls with a conference mirror. Apparently, it didn't matter. The mirror's whirling colors danced over the surface as it asked in a neutral voice, "Who would you like to contact?"

"Bernard de Chien-Loup please," Claire answered. She hoped that was how one used a mirror.

"Wait for a moment please. Your call is being connected."

Claire quickly put her hair in a ponytail, trying to look decent. That was one of the things that made Claire nervous about conference mirrors - it made one feel that one had to look presentable when using a mirror. When one used a telephone, one could be still in their pajamas and it wouldn't infringe upon courtesy.

The mirror hummed to itself as it made the connection and soon, the swirling colors disappeared, replaced by a black void.

Another voice then came on, spoken in mechanical French. //Hello, you have reached the conference mirror of Bernard Nicholas Bisclavret the Third, Alpha wolf of the Chien-Loup clan. 

//Unfortunately, he is not home right now. If you are a co-worker at Lycanthrope Biomedical Research Center, please press 1. If you are a member of the Chien-Loup clan or any other affiliated clan, please press 2. If you are a representative from the Taxation Division of the Department for the Regulation of Non-Wizard, Part-Human Creatures please be informed that Monsieur de Chien-Loup has already paid off his needed debts according to the 501K plan under the Sentient Beasts category, except that he happened to mail the said payment off three minutes before the midnight deadline, and his owl, being very old and quite slow, perhaps caused the needed checks most likely to be lost somewhere between here and Paris. But not to worry, because currently, Monsieur de Chien-Loup is hoping that you may find it somewhere in your generous little hearts the need to give him a much desired extension...//

Claire stared blankly at the conference mirror. She didn't need to listen to this lengthy plea and really wasn't in the mood to tolerate it. But the fact was that the conference mirror had no visible buttons _to_ press, so she couldn't get herself out of this automated message. What kind of message was this to put on a conference mirror anyway? The reason dawned on her.

"Bernard!" she snapped, switching to her mother tongue. //Turn on the lights and stop talking like a mechanical imbecile. It's me, Claire.//

Quite abruptly, the light flickered on. A man sat at the desk looking like a three year-old with his hand caught in the cookie jar. A pair of smoked glasses perched tediously on his large nose. His face itself was square and firmly set, with his skin an unusual speckled pink tone. One hand was still in the position of turning on a desk light, telling that it was really him, not an Answering Spell on the conference mirror, who was speaking the taxation rant. //Oh, it is you!// he said sheepishly.

//What are you doing, blabbering in the dark?// Claire demanded, crossing her arms.

//I'm sorry, Claire,// Bernard said apologetically, pushing the bridge of his glasses up. //I thought the tax collectors were coming after me again. You know how I hate confrontations with the tax collectors.//

//They most likely would not have believed your silly message anyhow,// Claire pointed out. //A conference mirror is not a touch-tone appliance.//

//Oh. Yeah.// Bernard appeared even more frazzled and ran a hand through his hair. It was white and in the lamplight, it shone translucent. //At least it was you and not them,// he reasoned. //Why are you using a mirror? You usually telephone.//

//I'm in police custody,// she replied bluntly.

//You are?// Bernard questioned suspiciously. //The wizard police?//

//The RMC.//

He groaned. //You not involved with those Islington murders are you?// 

//How did you- I mean, what are you talking about?//

//There was an emergency press meeting early this morning. The footage is all over the Wizard Cable News Network.// He gave a disapproving look. //They got shots of the crime scene. Red snow everywhere. I heard the officers had the Cruciatus Curse put upon them until they vomited blood. The worst attack in a decade they call it. And that's the filth you put up with in London? Didn't I say that taking in those street wolves were trouble? The Freedom Hounds are nothing but a _pack_. // He said the word with obvious disgust. //I told you never to get involved with them. An unruly pack of law-breakers and fanatics. No wonder-//

//Bernard-//

//-those hooligans go off and cause trouble; I always knew it. Didn't I warn you years ago? And you told me they were safe, that it was a society problem and not themselves-//

//Well, it is-//

//-and I said, 'Fine, waste all the money in our coffers for your precious charity as long as we don't get our necks strung up.' And look at this, they are ready put the rope around your neck and it wasn't even your fault, but a Russian extremist's-//

//I am not in the mood to be lectured!//

//Well, it's not often I discover that my little sister deals with cop killers.// Bernard stopped, but that frowning look didn't disappear. //Are you charged with anything?//

//Probably.// She gave a frustrated sigh. //It's a long story. Even I'm not sure what's going on. They're looking for someone and thought that I had something to do with it.//

//What? The wolf had accomplices?// He paused, then started up again. //There was another report about an werewolf attack in some Muggle village awhile ago. You can't be involved with that as well? Don't tell me that Remus Lupin lived there too!//

//Who?// Claire dismissed that last comment. //Never mind. I'll explain it to you later. Right now, I just need you to come here.//

//And do what?//

//Perhaps talk to the RMC officials for me.//

//Them? You know how I hate dealing with the British. And not to mention that the government systems between the United Kingdom and France are different concerning us. I don't know why you even wanted to establish a Safehouse there; it's a wolf minefield. The British consider us beasts, Claire, not sentient beasts, and God knows how ruth-// 

//Thank you, Monsieur Obvious, but I did not call for a lesson in British law. I knew the risks when I came here.// She began to regret why she couldn't have contacted Caleb instead. It would have been easier dragging him away from a house full of screaming pups in Vienna than to ask Bernard to cross the Channel. 

Bernard looked grim, as if the situation got a hundred times worse now that he had to get involved with it. //I do not know if they would even listen.//

//I personally don't feel safe in this place,// she confided. She didn't want to go as far as to tell her brother her last confrontation with Agent Parsons. It was a horrid experience she wanted to keep to herself. //Technically, I still have ties to France. If not, talk with the Phelan clan and see if you could get them to step in.//

//Why would they want to cooperate?//

Claire sighed. //Look, remember the situation I'm in now.//

//This situation could blow up into an international dispute,// he muttered.

//Could you _please_ just come over here and then we'll talk about it then?//

He finally agreed. //Fine. I'll take the next plane over,// he promised. //Right now, I have to call Caleb-//

//Don't tell anyone else about this,// she added. //I want to keep quiet as long as possible.//

//I can't have the rest of the clan be ignorant,// Bernard said irritably. //It's my duty to let them know.//

//Not immediately,// Claire persuaded. //This is already bad enough-//

//Claire....// he glowered, lowering his chin so that the red pupils of his eyes stared up from behind his lenses at just the right angle. The Look was something Bernard had mastered in their childhood, and used whenever he felt the need to show some sort of authority.

Although having been subjected to The Look many times in her life, Claire still gave in, even if only because she was tired of dealing with him. //Fine,// she snapped. //Tell Caleb. But no one else.//

Bernard quickly pushed the bridge of his glasses up once more. //Perfect. Are you able to call again?// he asked.

//This is my one call.//

//All right. I'll see you tomorrow.// Bernard made a move to turn off the mirror, but his sister stopped him.

//Wait,// she said, the thought suddenly coming to her. //If you're having tax trouble, is it for the best that you suddenly leave the country?//

//Oh. Yeah.// Bernard paused. //I'm sure I could work it out later, I suppose....//

//After all,// she said helpfully, //your owl should get to Paris sometime.//

//Hmuf,// he snorted cynically. //Well, if I do get accused of tax evasion, at least I won't be home to hear about it.//

Chapter 30

Mary hated this place. But it wasn't so much as she despised this place than she was scared of it. Even though the late morning's light was hovering over the sea, the glow did not penetrate inside this small shack. Noises came unexpectedly from the unknown corners. Up above in the skeleton rafters, cobwebs floated about; she saw a grotesque spider in the corner spinning its web. Mary made sure that she sat farthest away from that corner. Spider's provoked an unspeakable terror within her. She was having chills just from knowing it was there.

All of these were tell-tale signs of monsters lurking about, she was sure of it. There was a low, bawling sound that rumbled through the house at certain times - that was the monster. Remmy assured her that it was only the wind, but she didn't believe him. Wind doesn't growl.

Near the back of the small room was a shut door. Remmy tried opening it when they first found this place, but it was locked up tight. He had waved it off without another word. "Don't bother opening the door," he told her. "Let's just stay in here for now."

Mary was sure the monster was hiding behind that door. She knew that if she closed her eyes for a moment, that monster would come out and eat them all up. That was why she was still awake, while Remmy slept in a huddled heap beside her. Mary was determined that if any monster was going to get them, she would wake Remmy up and he'd use his magic to kill it. 

Her first experience on the shore wasn't as grand as Mary expected. In her mind she had pictured a dark blue, glittering ocean alongside a strip of golden sand graced by tall palms heavy with coconuts. What she saw was a gray, choppy sea with over an overcast sky. The sand was not soft and golden, but it was dirty and scattered with frozen patches of dead sea grass. A wind blew, but it was not warm and balmy, but cold and uninviting. There was a salt scent, but it made her throat feel raw and stung her eyes. 

The only consolation to this disappointment were the large beach houses that stood beyond the dunes. To her, they were the tall castles of past times standing guard against the sea. Almost all of them balanced on high wood pilings; she wondered why people liked their houses on stilts. "We're going to live in one of those?" she had asked hopefully.

Remmy told her they could live in any house she wanted. He showed her that most had little name signs nailed over the door frames. Mary choose a large, three-story complex that rose over its neighboring homes. Over the empty double-garage hung the sign 'Her Majesty.' 

" 'Her Majesty' it is then," Remmy had agreed. "We'll live like royalty this winter."

But they couldn't move into Her Majesty, not yet. Remmy told her that he had to find they key to Her Majesty and then as soon as he did, they could move in. Mary suspected that he didn't have a key at all, but that was okay. No one lived in any of these big houses by the ocean anyway; they seemed so lonely against the gray shore.

Together, they had found a small, shut-in shack to rest in the meantime. Remmy said it was a lucky find to have a fisherman's cottage here so far away from the more residential areas, but Mary wasn't sure. Maybe the fisherman ran away from the cottage because it was haunted. Or maybe the fisherman died there and his ghost was lurking behind the locked door, waiting to get them. Mary didn't know which possibility was worse.

She didn't say anything in protest however. Remmy looked tired. he was moving very slowly when they walked through town early that morning, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Every time Papa had circles under his eyes she knew he wasn't feeling so good. Remmy must be going through the same thing. So she wanted him to be able to go to sleep for a bit, just to make sure he'll feel better.

_"Craawwww... Crawwwww......_" Weak, but noticeable scratching sounds came from the locked door. 

The monster-ghost! Little hairs on the back of her neck seemed to stand on end. Another gust of sea air whistled through the gaping holes in the windows and she shivered. She moved closer to her friend until she could feel the rise and fall of his breath. She leaned her little head up against his chest and faintly, she could feel the beat of his heart. The monster didn't seem so dangerous now. 

Mary concentrated on the constant _thum-dum, thum-dum, thum-dum_ of his heart, feeling her own beat in the same time. Remmy was here and he promised that he'd keep her safe. During this lonely time, thoughts of her parents came back to her, but she drove them away. Mama and Papa were not here for her; Remmy was. She had to remember that. He'll protect her from the monster. He'll protect her from the police. He'll protect her from ever being alone. 

Another sound came to her ear, and this time, it didn't come from the locked door. It was a shuffle, the sound of feet crushing crumbly, frozen sand underfoot.

Mary rose up from her place and tip-toed across the room. The floorboards creaked and the sound behind the door grew louder.

"Craawwww... Crawwwwww..."

Through the broken windows, she saw some fifty meters away, a dark form of a man trudging up the sand hill toward their shack. Her heart jumped. Could it be? Was it the fisherman's ghost? Or a cop?

Mary raced back to Remmy's side and shook him. "Wake up, wake up!" she whispered urgently. "Someone's coming!"

Remmy stirred but did not wake. "Remmy!" she said. But he had to, had to, someone was coming here!

Outside, the crunch of stiff sand grew louder. The monster behind the door seemed to sense the stranger and its bellowing grew more intense.

"Crrraawwwww....!"

Mary's eyes darted from on door to another. The monster and the man. She reached into Remmy's jacket pocket and felt for the gun. A crazy thought. Maybe she could shoot him- maybe she could drive him away-

Or maybe Remmy would wake up now and he'll use his magic.

"Wake up!" she said, trying not to scream. The footsteps outside stopped. The man must have heard her. Now what will she do? 

Out of the corner of her eyes a black figure come forward. He was approaching the house. He was coming closer, but walking even slower now. She'd have time.

Mary lifted the gun out of Remmy's jacket pocket. It felt very heavy in her hands and she fumbled with it, trying to get a good grip. Her mind was screaming "No!" and her hands were confused. The gun slipped and skidded across the weather-beaten floor into the corner with the spider web.

Remmy stirred again. "What is it...?"

She stared at the web as the crawling arachnid dancing across the invisible strands. She couldn't get the gun now, not with the spider-! Mary looked down at Remmy. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to fire it, she didn't know-

"There's a man outside," she said, keeping her voice low. She crawled toward the corner tentatively, and the spider landed on top of the gun. She recoiled for an instant.

Remmy was up now, hands on his pockets. "Mary-"

"It's over here, it's over here," she said quickly, hesitating in front of the spider web. 

"Get it to me!"

"Craw! Craw!" called the beast from behind the locked door. 

Remmy stared at the door, eyes wide. Now he believed her; he surely looked like he believed her; there was a monster!

The spider crawled across the gun barrel as Mary watched. The deathly fear of that little creature overwhelmed her. She couldn't touch it, she couldn't touch it! "Use your magic!" she pleaded. She didn't want to get the gun! 

"I can't!"

Mary held her breath and reached out of the gun-

Remmy was absolutely still, his eyes on the door. He looked as if he were about to jump and tackle whoever walked through.

"Give it to me!" he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

The man was behind the door. Was he waiting, was he stopping-? 

_Creakkkkkkkk...._

Mary's hand plunged forward into the corner and grabbed the handle-

"Here-" she started, shaking the bits of webs off the gun. The spider crawled onto her hand and she shrieked. Her finger accidentally yanked at the trigger.

_B a n g!_

***

Several things happened at once.

At the sound of the gunshot, both Lupin and Mary fell to the ground, both for different reasons. Lupin ducked down out of instinct. Mary simply collapsed into a heap on the floor. A rough, stumbling sound was heard as the stranger backed away from the door and _thump!_ as he fell onto the sand. The mysterious creature behind the door gave a loud, mournful screech, then was silenced.

He saw her fall and then he leapt to his feet up again, waving his arms and shouting at the front doors and boarded up windows in a red anger. He kicked open the front door to see a distant figure dashing down the sand dune away from the shack. Lupin leaned against the door frame and stared out, at the retreating man. Gone.

He then returned to Mary. She curled up on her side, crying a piercing, wild scream. Her head was trashing back and forth and her mouth contorted painfully. Tears squeezed out of the corners of her screwed-up eyes and she quivered violently. A live arm cradled a limp one, a twitching leg dripped dark crimson.

"Careful, don't move," Lupin tried to speak over her screams, shouting as if his voice could stifle hers.

Words were coming out of her mouth, but he couldn't make any sense of them. She was shaking so much and clutching the dead arm to her chest and saying an incomprehensible babble trailing out of her lips like spittle.

"Shhh.... shhh..." Lupin came to her side and reached down as if to cradle her, but feared that he might harm her with his touch. He kneels down by her side, placing a hand in a puddle of blood that was quickly pooling on the floor. "Just hold on." Lupin put a hand to his forehead, trying to steady his mind.

But Mary's shouts were getting louder, and Lupin bowed his head with a certain mental anguish. The screams-! The screams-!

Lupin ripped off his jacket and folded it up into a tight wad. "Let me see it, dear, let's me see the wound." His hand extended out to her and she rolled back- a conscious or subconscious move he did not know- and she screamed again. Her voice was growing hoarse. Gushing tears poured down her face and onto her lips. She coughed, once, twice, then started her strangled moans again. She seemed ignorant of him in her agony. 

"Shhhh... shhhh... Hold steady now, my girl, hold steady." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Can you listen to me? I'm right here."

Mary rolled her eyes up to him. Her screams had died out, if only because her voice was gone. She gave a raspy whimper like that of an injured animal.

"Let me see, I have to put this over the wound. You have to let me see it..."

He kneeled by her side and moved the gun away from her. First things first. Had to apply pressure to the wound. Had to stop the bleeding. Lupin began talking these thoughts aloud in an authoritative tone; it steadied his nerves.

"Just lay back there, Mary; let me tend to your leg, and then I'll look at your arm."

Another little sound gurgled from the back of her throat. Then her head suddenly fell back; she grew limp and became still.

No! His hand went to her neck. Feeling nothing, he leaned down and put his ear to it. Faintly, very faintly, the heart was beating. She was unconscious, but not dead.

Relief filled him and spurred him into action. Speedy hands carefully straightened her out on the floor from her feral position, laying her arms by her side, and gently, gently, moving her legs. The arm she was clutching was already blue and purple, swelling around the wrist. He placed his hands over her arm and felt its length. No broken bones.

Those deft hands then traced along the blood trail to the bullet wound. It was in the calf of her leg. Checking carefully from his spot beside her - he didn't want to move Mary any more - he saw that the bullet didn't pass straight through, but was caught somewhere inside. Probably lodged into the bone. 

The blood by this time was still flowing heavily; Lupin grabbed his bundled up jacket and pressed it to the wound. The blood soaked through, covering his hands. He had to apply more pressure. But in doing so, would he only damage her leg more? Which was worse, the blood loss or breaking her leg?

Lupin clenched his jaw and gingerly applied the needed pressure. He began counting in his mind, as if there was a set time for the bleeding to stop. 

Onetwothree- the blood wasn't stopping, was it? 

Threefourfivesixseveneightnineteneleventwelve - blood pooling against her side, soaking up into his jeans.... 

Thirteenfourteenfifteen - damn it, count slower..! The jacket was turning soggy and crimson... 

The seconds continued to pass. 

Nineteen...

Twenty..... 

Twenty one... 

Twenty-two... more pressure? Should he risk it? 

Lupin continued steady. How long does it take before the bleeding wounds stopped? One minute? Five?

God, this was much easier before! His mind recalled the night of the Shrieking Shack, when Ron Weasley broken his leg. But of course Lupin had an advantage. There was no bleeding with Ron's injury, and also, Lupin had his wand and other people to aid him. This time, he was on his own.

Three minutes passed. The bleeding still had not even begun to slow.

Should he run for a phone booth? Call an emergency ambulance? Yet should he leave her alone like this? What if that intruder came back again?

He raised his head to the door, which was still ajar. He couldn't leave Mary's side, not even to close that door. What if he did and something happened? Illogical - it wasn't as if she'd _die_ if he got up for a moment- oh God dammit, why won't the bleeding stop??

A dull scratching was heard and he turned his attention to the back door. He did hear something coming from it, had he? God, he thought it was Mary's imagination running away with her before- Oh shit, why did he act so stupid, falling asleep like that- if there was really something behind that door- that's insane, Remus, absolutely insane, so stop thinking such thoughts-

_Crrreeeekkk...._

Lupin grabbed the gun and whipped about, pointing it forward.

"Freeze!" he shouted.

The front door swung back on its rusty hinges. No one. He let out a grateful sigh. A sea wind blew into the room, blowing bits of sand and grit into his face. Lupin shielded his eyes and quickly shut the portal. He then gave it a hard kick for no reason other than to vent his frustration.

_Swish-swish...._

Lupin peered outside. The dead sea grass rustled in the wind. _Swish- swish, swish-swish...._ Beyond, the gray waves licked upon the barren beach with a dull roar. Indeed, he felt very alone. 

But was he? His hand was still on the handle of the gun. The metal was slick with blood and sweat and covered with dirt. For some reason, he liked that power in his hands once again. To take life, accidentally or not. To take his or Mary's or someone else's- the indiscriminate genius of a gun!

He looked at himself with the red stains on his hands, the crimson caked onto his Muggle clothes, the dirt and sand soiling him all over. This was like that full moon in October; it was like that horrible experience all over again. But it couldn't be; he had no real parallels other than Mary being hurt and he being covered in her blood.

A deep-throated chuckle came out of his mouth. He rested his forehead and arm against the splintered, salt-crusted wood and laughed. He was going insane, wasn't he? Right now, looking like hell, feeling like hell, going through hell, and yet to laugh-!

Lupin decided right them either he was finally beginning to lose his mind or beginning to lose his will to survive. There was a distinction between the will to live and the will to survive. Surviving was different than living; you can be dead but still living. 

But... but that didn't really make any sense, did it now? God, was nothing making sense in this world?? His chuckle was cut short as he came to grasp at the strands of self-control. 

This was just stress he was going through, that's all; he wasn't going crazy... No, no, no, not going crazy now, not him, not Remus Lupin... This was just excessive, impossible stress. Stress to the breaking point - yes that's the term. But the point wouldn't be breaking yet; no, it couldn't, not now, it couldn't...

Lupin gripped the handle to the door. Slowly he turned it and stepped outside, heading down toward the dunes. He gazed up at the sun, estimating the time. The day was reaching its apex; noon was just around the corner.

Lupin inhaled deeply. The cold ocean air woke him up, made his nerves more refreshed and stable. Yes, that's what he needed. Stability. Coming to terms with himself, he quickly relaxed and sublimated his emotion into analyzing the situation, something he had confidence in doing. 

First of all, he had a severely injured child on his hands and they were in an area that was clearly unsafe for them to inhabit. So then he would have to get Mary to a safer place. Her Majesty was where she wanted to go... Lupin had a set of lock-picks but it had been years since he had used them. He discovered when he and Mary inspected the house that Her Majesty was on the market. That should make it easier to break into; any real estate broker probably wouldn't be showing this to any interested customers until spring. So the time before then, judging that the owners only used the house for the summer, Her Majesty should be unoccupied. 

Yet because it was a seasonal homestead, the place would be devoid of any household items whatsoever. But there was hot water and clean beds - good enough for him. He still had some of Claire's money on him. After a good shower he could set into town and purchase the supplies that he would need to care for Mary. Sending her to the hospital was not an option; he did not possess any Muggle insurance to cover for her treatment nor did she have any false identification he could use. 

Anyhow, it shouldn't be too difficult to care for her. The full moon was in how many days? Lupin counted the number in his head; today was November 26, the next full moon would be on December 15.... that left exactly twenty days from today. If so, then Lupin could care for her until the next full moon easily. For when the transformation comes, it heals all mortal wounds. Lupin learned that himself when he first transformed years ago; the broken leg he suffered then had regenerated instantly. Thus, Mary would be put into a perfect state of health in a little less than three weeks - certainly a Muggle hospital couldn't induce a better result.

So it was decided. Lupin would bring her to the beach house immediately.

"Remus...?"

A voice behind him. Lupin stood there. He couldn't even say that he was surprised. He felt no jump in his chest, no catch of breath, no adrenaline rush. The past few hours contained enough surprises; his body now ceased to respond to them.

With controlled calmness he raised his gun and confronted this person. His arm moved before him, pointing the muzzle toward the voice before he even saw who it was. He then turned his head. It was the intruder.

Lupin paused for a moment, and swallowed hard. His heart seemed to stop; the air was caught in his lungs. His firing arm turned loose and trembling; he slowly lowered it. Then, he took three measured steps toward the man until met face-to-face. 

He recognized him. Those pale eyes, with a haunted cast upon them; that thick black hair, once long and tangled, now cut shorter, just brushing against the shoulders. He looked so respectable, so clean, and so full of health, not the half-starved, dirty prisoner like Lupin recalled from earlier times. Lupin then realized he was the one who was filthy, coarse, and desperate. At the moment, he didn't care. 

"Hello Sirius," he whispered lowly, then promptly punched him in the face. 

Chapter 31

The punch caught Sirius in the jaw and he stumbled back, startled. He gave a small gasp then tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his bottom onto the cold, damp sand. 

Lupin then reacted in a more positive light. "Cripes, I'm sorry!" He lowered himself down to his level. "I didn't know what came over me, then. Are you hurt?"

"Argh," Sirius groaned. He placed his hand over his jaw and gently explored the tenderness of the area with his fingers. "Don't give it a second thought. I probably deserved that." 

"Here. Let me help you up." Lupin took his friend by the arm and hauled him to his feet. 

Sirius wiped the sand off his gray robes. "I'm just grateful that you didn't shoot me in the head with that thing." He gestured to the Colt revolver. "Though I know you have a good reason to."

Lupin gave a quick look the weapon and shoved it in his front pocket. "What happened just before? I didn't know it was you..."

"Same here. I thought you and Mary were just a homeless pair, and snuck in to claim my stake to the place. But when I saw it was you almost jumping me there - well, it the furthest thing on my mind. And I didn't even know you owned a gun, but I figured since you lost your wand you would need something."

Lupin was dumbfounded. "Mary? Lost my wand? How did you-?" 

"Know?" Sirius pulled out a rolled up newspaper from within his robes. "Today is a truly catastrophic one in the wizard world." He held up the cover page for Lupin to read, still rubbing his face with the other hand.

Lupin scanned the headlines with mute astonishment.

RUSSIAN WOLF SLAYS FIVE MLES OFFICERS IN NORTH LONDON

RMC States Wolf was Armed with Wand 

WIZARD WEREWOLF TAKES MUGGLE GIRL AS PUP

Is Described as "Highly Dangerous"

"You even beat me out priority-wise." Sirius then flipped to another page and presented another news banner in smaller print.

BLACK EVADES MINISTRY AGAIN

Escaped With Help from Wild Hippogriff

Lupin couldn't believe what he was seeing. "They went public with Havenshire?" he gaped. He stared at Sirius as if realizing for the first time he wasn't supposed to be there. "An-and y-you - here - now- "

"I'm on page three," Sirius remarked lightly. "Page three, mind you. I'm mean, the Ministry declared a year ago that I'm a wanted mass murderer and here my escape is only on page _three_."

"Impossible!" Lupin cried out. "You can't be here; you were going back to Azkaban! Sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss!"

"Pretty much." Sirius still had the _Daily Prophet_ open, and gazed at his article thoughtfully. " 'Escaped with help from wild hippogriff...' But didn't I escape from Hogwarts with the help from a wild hippogriff last summer? Are they recycling my headlines or am I just acting repetitive?"

"Sirius!"

He glanced up. "Remus, calm down." 

Lupin backed away a few steps, feeling overcome. He propped a forearm against the gray, molding siding of the cottage. 

He turned his head to shout. "At least I'm not chiding reporters about my news coverage!" 

Sirius quickly folded up the paper and tucked it under his arm. "I know," he acknowledged earnestly. "I'm sorry for everything. You probably put up with a whole mess of problems because of me."

Lupin could only nod.

"And I'm here to help you out of them." Sirius walked over and put a hand on Lupin's shoulder. "I figured that you had covered for me at the Triwizard Tournament," he added softly, "and that's what lead to this." His eyes went to the door. "I think Mary's another matter entirely."

He took hold of himself with the thought of her. "Yes," he straightened up, clearing his throat, "yes, we'll have to bring her somewhere more secure."

"Did you have a plan?"

"I marked off a beach house nearby. We'll stay there for the winter."

"A beach house?" Sirius arched an eyebrow. "One of those fancy properties beyond the dunes?"

"Of course." Lupin stepped back inside the cottage over to where Mary lay. His jacket was draped loosely over her leg; he took the garment and securely tied it over the wound. It had finally stopped bleeding - a sign of progress. Already Lupin felt his mood lighten even more now that he had someone on his side. 

Sirius followed him into the room. "If you must know, I'm not the greatest in the field of home invasion. Last time I tried it, I happened to get myself arrested."

Lupin slowly slid his hands underneath and girl and gently raised her up in his arms. "Then, I'll just have to show you how." He walked past him out the door. "My briefcase is over there in the corner. Could you fetch that?"

"Just a moment. I have something to show you as well."

Sirius came to the back door and knocked three times. "Open up Buckbeak!" he shouted and retreated a few steps. 

"Buckbeak?" Lupin repeated.

There was an affirmative, "Squawk!" from behind the wood. Seconds later, the door flung violently open, kicked out by a horse's hindquarters.

Sirius disappeared into the mysterious back room and lead out the runaway hippogriff. The creature had a difficult time getting through the doorway and not just because of his size. The poor animal hopped forward with its left front paw raised off the ground. 

"How's that paw coming along?" Sirius asked politely, giving a bow.

Because of his foreleg, Buckbeak was unable to bow in return. However, he greeted Sirius with a familiar, "Craw..." and bobbed his eagle head up and down. 

Lupin commented, "He was hidden there all along?" 

"This was the safest place available when we arrived here." Sirius slung an arm across the animal's shoulders and thumped Buckbeak on his feathery neck. "We had to find a nice place for you, didn't we, boy?"

Buckbeak replied with a knowing turn of his head and a friendly growl. The two seemed to have developed a certain camaraderie between them since Lupin last seen them. "Is there a place for him at wherever you're taking us?" Sirius questioned. "I don't want to keep Buckbuck out here in the sea air all the time."

"There's probably an above-ground cellar or something. Let's go, I don't want us to attract any unwanted attention."

And so this odd assortment left the crumbling cottage for the dunes. Being seen by Muggles wasn't a problem. The whole area was surrounded by travel agency-owned properties; thus, during the winter, that section of shoreline was deserted.

A person could see reason why this was so. This beach was miserably barren of any sign of life. The sea grass - usually waist-high and colored green and gold - were reduced to withered tufts of straw in the winter. Parallel to the long stretches of sand, these grass plains were beat down by the wind to lay horizontally along the ground, creating almost a thatch flooring to walk on. Overall, it was easy footing for the group, though sometimes slippery from the vegetation's smooth, toughened stalks. Within minutes, they reached a small sand trail that was pounded into a somewhat hard ground by the weather and hundreds of past beach-goers before them. This path twisted and snaked along to the back way of the beach front property. Finally, they made it to the back patio of Her Majesty. 

Lupin gently lowered Mary onto the patio then appraised the sliding door. He stuck his fingers into the handle of the screen door and gave it a sideways push. This wasn't locked; the screen slid aside to reveal a door inlaid with glass. The door handle was pierced with the little slit for the key. "Hand me my briefcase," he said, not taking his eyes off the knob.

Sirius, who had be silent throughout the walk, gave it to him. Lupin unlatched the case and shuffled through various items and clothing. At the bottom lay a large iron key ring with several small iron tools attached to it. He snatched that up and took it out.

Examining each one, he then chose a long, flat steel pick a little thicker than a piece of twine and carefully inserted this into the patio door. Sirius was surprised at the skill his friend used; even Buckbeak lowered his head in order to watch.

"I didn't know any Muggle picks existed for house locks like that," he finally commented.

"There aren't," Lupin replied. A _snap_ was head and he twisted the doorknob, opening the portal wide. "These picks I got at Knockturn Alley."

Sirius glanced at him. "When did you ever shop at Knockturn Alley?" he asked.

"Once in awhile." Lupin slipped the keys into his back pocket and retrieved Mary. "Come on."

The house was vast and roomy, decorated in rich blues and deep purples. They stepped into a small back foyer, yet even this room was wallpapered in luxuriously dark azure paper with plush carpeting underfoot. Sirius gave a low whistle as he entered, trailed by Buckbeak, who has to bow down his head in order to get through the doorway. "You pick your lodgings rather well," Sirius commented. 

Lupin didn't listen, searching the first floor for a bed, a couch, anything of that sort. The first room past the foyer was an open kitchen fit for a master chef, with various smaller rooms and hallways leading off it. He glanced into each one, carrying Mary in his arms. Dining room with a large mahogany table and Oriental rug; an elegant parlor dressed up with dolly lace and cherrywood; library lined with leather-bound books and glass display cases...

He came to a grand stairway of sorts made of shallow, stone steps, probably marble. This lead to a narrow hallway that was the second floor. The closest bedroom was the master one painted sky blue and white, and in here he placed Mary, within the canopy bed. Nestling the unconscious girl among the pillows and satin sheets, he then went to work on her injuries. 

"Sirius!" he called over his shoulder.

He showed up in the doorway carrying an armload of items. "Searched the house for things you could use," he said, bringing them over to a chair leaning against the wall.

"Oh, bless you." Lupin sorted through the pile and picked up a set of white towels. "Could you get any warm water and soap?"

"Got the soap, but for some reason, the hot water tap isn't working."

"Must be the water heater."

"Water heater-?" Sirius started, but Lupin was already out of the room and down the stairs. While he was gone, Sirius came up to the bed. He wanted to see this girl Lupin adopted.

Mary, who was already small and delicate for her age, looked incredibly fragile under these circumstances. She looked like an old marionette waiting to be fixed up after a puppet show. She was in a dark blue jumper with a white shirt; the blood stained her clothing with deep red patches. Her golden hair reduced to a dirty blonde from the sandy trek and her cheeks were like porcelain. Her facial features were kittenish and round like in all young children, with small lips and wide forehead. The long, wispy eyelashes rested lightly on her face, hiding innocent eyes. 

Sirius cautiously took her pulse. It was slipping in and out. _What is Remus thinking, bringing this girl here instead of a hospital?_ he wondered.

"I have the water," Lupin came hurrying in, carrying a plastic bowl full of soapy water. "How is she?"

"All right." Sirius addressed his concern. "We can't keep her here."

"Why not?" Lupin wetted a towel and dabbed it against her leg. "Got any ice?"

"Right here." He handed him a bucket. "Do you actually think you're about to care for her?"

"Yes." His friend took the bucket of ice and poured some of it into a folded towel, making a compress. "There aren't any plastic bags around?"

"Well, no." Sirius tried again. "She's got a bullet in her leg, Remus."

"I can see that." After making this cold bundle, he wrapped it tightly around Mary's swelling arm, knotting it securely. "So?"

"She'll need some medical attention."

"You don't think I can do it?"

"I think you're out of your mind if you think you can."

"Then I am. My briefcase."

Sirius gave it to him, but then crossed his arms in disapproval. "Remus, I know that she's in your care and all, but don't you think what you're doing is a bit risky?"

"Yes." Lupin was now spreading his healing salve over Mary's arm, before wrapping it up again. "But the full moon is only in twenty days, Sirius. After that her injuries will regenerate and she'll be fine. It's only twenty days," he repeated quickly.

"Twenty days is a long time."

"Not so." Lupin stopped his doctoring to face Sirius. "I appreciate your concern, but I can care for her myself. If you can think of any alternative, go ahead."

Sirius sighed. He shared Lupin's thought that there was no alternative. 

By that time, Lupin was just putting the final touches to the rough bandage for Mary's leg. After, he sat at the foot of the bed, drawing back the flimsy canopy curtain a bit to give him room. The salve he had couldn't do any more than heal bruises and shallow cuts, but at least it was better than nothing. If he applied it faithfully to her wrist, the sprain might disappear within a week. He wasn't sure about the bullet wound.

"What are you going to do now?" Sirius asked him when he finished.

"I... I'll wait here," he decided, "until she awakens."

"Get cleaned up," Sirius suggested, "I'll sit by the girl."

Lupin protested, "She doesn't know you. I won't let her awake to see a complete stranger."

"Hey," Sirius took him by the shoulder and pulled him up. "I didn't want to say this before, but you look like crap. If I was a seven-year old girl waking up after shooting myself in the leg, the last thing I want to see is someone resembling a mass murderer sitting at my bedside."

"A mass murderer?" he said, letting the weariness show in his voice.

"A bit of a stretch, but yes." Sirius guided him toward the door. "Don't worry so much, Remus," he reassured. "Mary will be fine. Most likely, she won't even stir until you come back."

Lupin knew that something was about to snap within himself again, but, strangely, his emotion wasn't bordering on tears. It was like a little deflation of the stress, like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He realized then how much of a relief Sirius had been, even for this short time. And how had Lupin treated him in return? Either by ordering him around or completely ignoring his presence. Lupin gave one last look to the canopy bed. "Sirius..." 

"Oh, you're really acting like a-" Sirius started, but was silenced as Lupin pulled him in with a bear hug. This seemed to startle him as much as Lupin's earlier punch did. He took a few steps back to regain his balance. 

"Thank you," Lupin whispered wholeheartedly. "Thank you." The intense relief continued to flow; he was almost shaking now with emotion. "You have no idea how much of a relief it is to me that you're here." 

"The feeling's mutual," Sirius replied, but Lupin went on.

"With all of this trouble going on... I don't even know how you managed to escape; you have to tell me-"

"I will, I will." Sirius squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Just relax. I thought you were a goner myself, when I heard about Havenshire-"

Lupin was losing himself; he drew back, shaken yet obviously calmer. "I don't know how to make up for my initial... greeting..."

"All of us lose our heads sometimes. You were there for me when I did, so now I'm here for you." Sirius looked down at his robes. "Aw geez, you got blood all over me." 

Lupin gave a sad smile. "Sorry there."

"No problem. I'll just filch something of yours." Sirius turned Lupin around and gave him a lighthearted push out the bedroom door in the direction of the bathroom. "Now go on."

Chapter 32

An hour later, Lupin and Sirius sat together again in the master bedroom. Two chairs had been pulled up by the bedside. Lupin leaned forward and brushed the back of his hand against Mary's cheek. She was still pale, but breathing. He had checked her bandage around her wrist only a few minutes before; the swelling had gone down significantly.

Lupin himself was in a more presentable state than he was an hour ago. A hot shower and clean clothes had done him well, and he donned a Muggle outfit he still had. Sirius was dressed in robes, having borrowed the set from Lupin's ratty briefcase. Their bloody clothes were soaking in the bathtub. The house did have a washer and dryer, but there was no detergent available to clean the clothes with. Lupin added that to his mental shopping list for his planned trip into town.

"You think she'll wake up soon?" Sirius asked.

"Hopefully." Lupin didn't know what he would do if she didn't. He sat back in his chair, resigned to play the waiting game. He picked up Sirius' paper, which lay on a whitewashed bed stand. "Where did you get this anyway?"

"Stole it off an old witch's front porch two towns away. I don't think she minded." Sirius replied. "Are you going to read about yourself?"

"Oh, I'm not as egotistical as you, Sirius." Lupin stared at the paper and tossed it back on the stand. "Why don't I get a primary source?"

"My third great escape?" he joked. Yet his attitude wavered. "You sure you want to hear it?"

Lupin noted his discomfort. "Only if you want to tell me."

Sirius glanced out one of the baby blue curtained windows. Even though it was only three o' clock, the sky was already growing dark. He gave a small nod. "Well, don't know where to start..." He cleared his throat and began in a steady voice, "One of the great flaws in Azkaban is that there are very few wizard guards. Almost none. Dementors have free reign there, basically."

"I'm not surprised," Lupin put in. "Since there are few people willing to work with them."

Sirius nodded. "There must have been four, five Dementors surrounding my cell... because... well, when I first woke up in Azkaban, I..." he hesitated, his mood growing dimmer. "I thought of killing myself. The feeling was just so... It bombarded my mind..." For the first time, his voice lost its optimistic undertone. "I-It was like I was drowning.... And... and this time it was worse than all my years already spent there because I knew that I had people on the outside who depended on me..."

"Harry?"

"And you." Sirius bowed his head, staring down at his hands. His air was a complete downturn from before, as if he could feel the ghost of prison taking over.

"Let's forget about this," Lupin said quickly.

Sirius raised a hand. "I'm okay. I have to tell you this, or you wouldn't understand."

"Believe me, I understand it completely. But you're here, and that's all that matters-"

"I almost committed suicide that night."

This stopped Lupin short. Sirius drew in a ragged breath. "Azkaban is worse than hell - it's hell's shit hole - and it makes you believe in crazy things... I thought that, I dunno, maybe if I died, God would let me watch over Harry from above... Somehow help all of you out..."

"So why didn't you?" A soft whisper.

"I remembered that I didn't believe in God."

"Oh." Lupin shifted his gaze away from Sirius. His friend continued on, not noticing Lupin's reaction.

"It was night, and there were... there were sounds outside my window. You know, windows in Azkaban are more like slits in the wall, nothing but a crack in the stone for cross-ventilation.... So there was this noise.... a bird calling... Which was very strange, because birds never fly over Azkaban....

"And I looked up.... I got up... tried to see, what bird was up there... and reached the window and saw a flash of gold. I recognized the sound. It was Buckbeak..." 

Lupin nodded. The hippogriff at the moment was settling himself comfortably in one of the rooms downstairs, his injured paw wrapped up in a sheet. 

"Buckbeak was waiting for me outside that Plumb home when I talked with Harry... I was trying to give him some tips on defeating the dragon for the First Task," he explained. 

So that was the reason why. Lupin wondered whether he should tell Sirius about what he knew about Mad-Eye Moody, but didn't dare interrupt him.

"I couldn't believe it.... He must have somehow hid when Plumb returned home or something... and followed me to Azkaban when I got caught. Dementors don't affect animals as much as they do us, so he wasn't scared away. Buckbeak stayed outside all night, calling... He disappeared during the day... couldn't hear him... but came back at nights... Don't think the Dementors noticed or the wizards guards cared... But he stayed for me..."

_Little wonder why Sirius is so fond of that animal now,_ Lupin thought.

"That brought me something. Not hope - that's what the Dementors always take away - but Buckbeak's coming gave me... gave me the will, I suppose, the will to live..."

That Lupin could understand.

"My Dementor's Kiss was to take place yesterday at dawn. The guards told me... and asked if I would like a priest or... or a last meal... or anything... I asked for one thing. I asked that... that before I- well..." Sirius was having difficulty going on. His eyes had a distant look in them, and at that moment, the dark shadows lurking within seemed to take over. He stared off for a moment lost in thought. What was he thinking about? How were the guards? It was known that they were usually as bitter as the Dementors were silent. Rough treatment was no stranger there. 

Lupin put a hand on Sirius' shoulder. He, in turn, raised his eyes to meet his. "I asked for it to take place outside so I could see the sun rise."

"And they granted that."

"It was my last request. They had to."

Lupin gripped his shoulder. Sirius was sentenced to die the day of the First Task... He must have thought so much about Harry, worrying over him... Again, the thought of telling him about Moody came to mind, but instead he said, "So, when yesterday morning came..."

"They brought me outside to the front courtyard, facing east..." Sirius said. "I checked around... Buckbeak had to be out there... I depended on him to be.... Tough ol' bird..." 

From downstairs a faint, "Craw..!" was heard, as if Buckbeak was agreeing with him. Sirius glanced toward the bedroom door quickly then turned back to Lupin.

"He hid up there in the prison battlements... I couldn't see him from where I stood... I couldn't see him, got scared...The Dementor was coming closer... I could... could feel the cold presence... it was like my heart was cased in ice.... I was shaking... Buckbeak wasn't coming, I thought - I thought he already left, that he gave up...

"The Dementor reached out... its hand was like a skeleton's, all white and shriveled... The guards, they backed away... I could tell at that moment, they hated their job from the looks on their faces...

"And I heard Buckbeak calling and I looked up. He was diving towards me, right behind the Dementor.... He tackled the Dementor head on... It just toppled and I jumped on Buckbeak's back and yelled something... 'Go!' " Sirius' hand swooped up, highlighting the word, then went on, talking more fluidly. 

"The Dementor reached up and grabbed Buckbeak's front paw there. He twisted him around, trying to pull us to the ground. The guards were shouting, taking out their wands and firing Stun Spells, but the Dementor was in the way... The Stun Spells hit it instead of us, yet didn't affect it at all. And I just- I kicked out at the Dementor's hand and Buckbeak, he was flapping and screeching; he arched his head over and bit down on the Dementor's wrist. There was a snapping sound and I swear, the Dementor's wrist snapped off - the wrist bone just crunched up and the hand fell, so it hung off the arm by a bit of gray skin. There was no blood or anything..." He shuddered a bit at the memory. Lupin could tell, though, that Sirius was feeling better now the story was coming to an end.

"Then we flew out of there like a bat out of hell. We made a couple stops here and there, but wound up at Brighton and found that cottage place to stay in. Buckbeak was injured by the Dementor - those bastards have the touch of death on them - and so I kept him locked up in the back room. I was out on the search for supplies, and then when I came back, I saw you and Mary and-" Sirius threw his hands up. "You know the rest."

"Almost like a miracle," Lupin commented, "how you got out."

"There are no miracles in life," Sirius replied. "Only lucky breaks." His eyes went to the girl. Mary lay tucked between the sheets, her wounded arm crossed over her chest. Her breath came in and out, the only sign that she was still alive. "Is she a miracle or a lucky break?"

"Sometimes I like to think of her as a miracle."

"And other times?"

"I'm just grateful that I didn't kill her."

Sirius accepted that answer. "You never meant for it to happen?"

"No." Lupin sighed. "I wasn't in the best of moods that full moon. I didn't realize...." His eyes turned downcast. "I walked into town that day and got myself drunk; I never even meant to. I was just so... depressed, I suppose, ever since the summer ended and September rolled in. I kept thinking about if I hadn't made that mistake that night-" Both knew he meant he night of the Shrieking Shack. "-maybe I wouldn't have betrayed Dumbledore's trust like that... who knows, maybe I would still be at Hogwarts."

"You never betrayed his trust," Sirius argued. "You resigned."

"I felt like I betrayed him," Lupin replied. "I couldn't control my wolf and almost bit someone. The wolf can't be controlled, and I was a fool to think it could be."

Sirius looked as if he was about to say a quick retort to that, but kept it to himself. "She's your daughter now, huh?"

"Daughter?" The word sounded foreign on his tongue. Lupin never really thought of it that way. He always referred to her as his daughter for concealment purposes, but not in actual reality. "Werewolf young are called pups," he corrected him. 

"Pup then." Sirius looked at her. "The paper said that her parents think she's dead and the Ministry is going to keep it that way. Does she know that she can never see them again?"

"She figured that out herself. Mary can be a very perceptive child."

"Do you know what she thinks of that?"

"Not really..." He sighed. "From what I can tell, Mary thinks that God sent her to help me. That because her father couldn't, she could." He shook his head. "I don't know how she got that idea into her head."

Sirius was very intrigued by this. "She thinks she's some sort of angel or something?"

"I don't know. She only believes that she's the one who can help me. I don't even know how I need to be helped." Her little naive mission statement had always bothered him, although Lupin could never pin-point why. Was he a bad person? Did she think that she could 'save' him? And if so, from what? What sin had he ever committed?

"Do you believe so?"

"I..." Lupin paused and thought to himself for a few moments. Finally, he replied, "I think she only told herself that in order to cope with her situation. She's telling herself these lies so she can think that even though she won't ever see her family again, she would still be linked to them somehow. Her father was a preacher; it only makes sense."

In fact, the reasoning didn't make sense and Lupin knew that. Mary told him her that before he ever informed her that she was a werewolf. Yet it was the closest thing resembling logic and he ran with it. 

"Okay." A whimsical look crossed Sirius' face. "When we were younger, I always thought that if you didn't go into the Defense Against the Dark Arts, you'd go into the clergy." 

"Well, I'm certainly not in the clergy," he said irritably. Lupin felt uncomfortable about the direction this conversation was going. "When Mary's older, she'll realize that she was only deluding herself." In reality, Lupin thought that in many ways, Mary reminded him of himself. Maybe he wanted to keep her innocence. Let her believe in anything she wants as long as she didn't know the truth. 

Sirius imposed, "She'll have to find out sometime. You're all over the wizard news. If she's as perceptive as you say, I wonder if she even thought about exactly why the RMC is after you."

"Well, what do you expect me to tell the child?" Lupin suddenly snapped. "That I was smashed beyond belief then tried to eat her? That it wasn't God's will for this to happen, but a case of severe misjudgment? Is that what you want me to tell her, Sirius, that she was a _mistake?_" 

"Whoa, hold it, Remus!" Sirius said, affronted by such a reaction. "I was only playing devil's advocate there. Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

"None taken." Lupin tried to brush it off, but that uncomfortable feeling wouldn't go away. He then got up from his chair. "I'll have to leave for town," he said quickly.

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked. "I thought you'd want to stay by Mary." He could tell that Sirius thought he was to blame to his moodiness. "I could go in your stead."

Lupin sighed. "I want to see if I can find some better medical supplies."

Sirius checked the window. Days were shorter now that December was coming; thus, the sun betrayed time, slipping under the horizon as if hiding from the cold. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"I have disguises."

"Really?" Sirius' tone was between amused and accepting. "Is it one of those black-mustache-fake-nose kits that Muggle children send box tops away for?" Lupin began to notice that if Sirius wasn't being grim or light-hearted, he was mildly sarcastic. Just like the old days.

"Polyjuice Potion." Lupin rummaged through that briefcase of his, which had been laid open upon a cushioned bench at the foot of the bed.

Sirius watched Lupin go through the case. "Do you have an entire storehouse packed in there or something?"

"Close." Lupin found what he wanted. It was the second canteen of Polyjuice Potion that he had made, the one he used with hair from the young Freedom Hound Toby. He had never used it, and had hastily thrown the canteen in while packing. However, time doesn't lessen the potion's potency, and since the canteen wasn't damaged, it should still work.

"Who's in there?"

"A young wolf I met at the Safehouse." Lupin shook the canteen a few times, making sure none of the ingredients had separated. "There's a half-liter in here, enough potion to last two and a half hours. We need to reserve as much of it as possible." He unscrewed the cap and took a look inside. A putrid smell wafted to his nose and he wrinkled it distastefully. Yes, the potion was still good.

"I'll only be out an hour," he said, measuring the needed amount into a collapsible cup. 

"And if she awakens?" 

"Only more the reason for me to hurry." Lupin held his breath and chugged the liquid down. The potion hit with a stronger blow than the last time he took it; Lupin felt his feet slip from under him and clung to the canopy bedpost for support. While the transformation happened, Lupin had his head down low, but he caught a glimpse of Sirius' face. It was an expression of complete, amazed fascination.

The transformation into Toby wasn't as starling as when he changed in Jarohnen; perhaps because Toby was a younger and more his size. Yet there was a noticeable difference. It was as if a bolt of lightning had coursed through his veins. He felt suddenly more energetic, more ready, and more willing than any moment before in his life. His very heart seemed to be stronger, beating faster; his vision seemed different, clearer; his hands felt every aspect of the painted wood. He was in a different body, and therefore the world seemed different. He knew that his vision and health probably hadn't changed much, but he felt as if he had enough stamina in him to run a mile straight through. It wasn't a real boost of health he was feeling; it was the only strength of youth. No wonder, since his real self and this counterpart had almost twenty years difference.

Sirius gave a low whistle. "Like them young, eh?"

"Really?" Lupin said, bemused. He repeated the word, "Really," just to hear the voice again. Definitely younger. He ran a hand through Toby's red-gold hair - fuller and slightly longer than his - then examined the hands. They were rough, with cracked fingernails and tough, hardened calluses on the fingers. The sleeves of his shirt went over his wrists up to his thumbs - so Toby had a smaller frame than him. His jeans gathered a bit at the ankles as well - Toby was shorter too. 

"An hour," Lupin repeated to Sirius, grabbed his wallet, then left the room.

He took the stairs two at a time, skipping the last three so he could jump onto the first floor landing. Inside the parlor room, Buckbeak sprawled leisurely on the extensive couch, thoroughly ruining the embroidered seat cushions. 

"Craw?" the hippogriff asked inquisitively, seeing Lupin.

"Don't worry, Buckbeak," he said pleasantly. "I'm not anyone you should fret about." 

With this youthful demeanor still prevailing, Lupin went out the front door to the street. It was deserted, with no people on the street or even cars in the driveways; the houses used were probably seasonal as well. 

Lupin made his way down the street, whistling to himself. He knew he should hurry, and he will. It was just that Toby's body made him feeling more relaxed. How odd; did a person's attitude change when the Polyjuice Potion is taken? 

Having bought a map as soon as he and Mary arrived, Lupin knew vaguely where he was. He halted for a moment. He forgot that map didn't he? Glancing over his shoulder, Lupin wondered if he should go back and get it. His mind shrugged it off. He'd find his way out of the residential area soon enough. If not, maybe he could bum a ride.

This reasoning motivated him for a good fifteen minutes of wandering. But for every street he turned to, he only saw more residential areas. One neighborhood crossed into another, and then into another. These homes were smaller than the one in Her Majesty's neighborhood, with sprawling porches and long drives with cars parked in them: these must belong to the locals. After a while, he tried to backtrack to Her Majesty and fetch the map. Yet with every turn he made, he only got more lost. Lupin checked his watch. It was nearing twenty minutes. He'd have to get to town and quick. He knew that a somewhat tacky shopping area, mostly aimed at tourists, was located along the beach, eventually. He could go there and possibly figure his way out into the real consumer district of the area. 

He turned around ready to go back toward the beach, when he saw someone turn the corner from the beach direction. Maybe he could ask him for directions. 

The man dressed casually in jeans, sneakers, and a dark blue windbreaker to keep out the gale. Oddly enough, a long, gray, stick-like object was in his hands, with a little metal disk attached to the bottom. The man held a plastic bag as well, with various items within.

Lupin approached him from the side - he was in a very open mood - and initialed the conversation. "That's a very interesting thing you have there," he commented, referring to what the stranger held.

The man didn't react. A pair of headphones was over his ears and a CD player hooked onto his belt. He must be listening to something then. Lupin tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me."

The man, not expecting anyone, jumped. He took off the headphones. "Hello there," he said.

"Hello," Lupin replied. "Could you help me out?"

"Sure." 

"I was wondering where I could buy something."

"What do you need?"

"Quite, um, a few things. Is there a store around?" 

"In town, not by here." The man glanced up and down the street. "Are you walking by yourself?"

"Yes," Lupin admitted, somewhat sheepishly. Pedestrians aren't a common sight in the winter.

"Hey," the man offered, "I was heading back to my place. Why don't I give you a lift?"

"If it's not a problem."

"Of course not." The man gestured with a hand. "Follow me. It's just a couple houses down."

"Why thanks." Lupin trailed alongside. "That's very considerate of you."

"It's not a problem," the man replied. "It would take you a good half-hour if you walked."

Now that Lupin was talking with him face to face, this man looked familiar. He was about the height and build of his real body with short golden-brown hair. He had kind blue eyes framed behind square-framed glasses. This person reminded him of a past time and place, but Lupin was sure they had never met before. 

"What is that?" Lupin asked again, pointing to the steel object.

"This?" The man lifted it up slightly. "A metal detector."

"A metal detector?" Muggles use that to find metal? Lupin didn't realized metal reserves could be found at beaches. 

"It's uses a type of sonar to find metallic things underground," the man explained.

"Find anything interesting?"

"Not much." The man showed Lupin the half-open bag. "Just some change and an old key someone probably lost."

"You do this often? Walk up and down the beach finding coins and whatnot?" Lupin's voice gave way that he really didn't think that was a worthwhile hobby.

"Oh, I don't own this; my brother-in-law does," the man replied. "My wife wanted me out of the house doing something." He gave a half-shrug. "I didn't really try to find anything. I say, if I'm out of the house for a good hour, she'll think me better for it." The man was soft-spoken, and seemed to have a certain grace in his movements. When he talked, his voice held a quiet strength. When he moved, it was with the unconscious agility of a cat's.

The two stopped at a ranch house, with a pick-up truck parked in front. "I'll be right back." The man entered the house.

Lupin watched his back turn to leave. He could have sworn that he saw him somewhere before; he just couldn't put his finger on it. Trying to take his mind off the subject, he noted the vehicle parked in the driveway. Quite larger and more rugged than most cars he had seen, the truck was obviously built for heavy four-wheel driving.

A few moments later, the man came back out with the keys to the truck. "Come in," he said, opening the side door.

Lupin climbed into the passenger seat while the man took his place behind the wheel.

He noted that cars of this type he didn't see often. "Is this an import?" Lupin asked. 

"American." The man stared up the engine, then backed up out of the drive. "Looking for any place specifically?"

"Not really. I'm not from around here," he said truthfully.

The man agreed. "Neither am I. My wife and I are just staying with my sister. I've been here for awhile, though, so I know my way around." He glanced at Lupin out of the corner of his eye. "You live in one of the rentals by the shore?"

"Somewhere around there, yeah." Lupin was uneasy telling the man this, but the stranger didn't seem half as hesitant about being open. After all, they haven't even properly introduced each other and yet Lupin was riding front seat with him.

"In the winter?" the man asked. "It isn't as pretty around here. Rains torrents too."

"Well, it's less crowded than during the tourist season," Lupin said. "I didn't really come here for the weather than I did for a chance to be alone for a bit." 

"True. It's nice to get away to where no one really knows you." The truck turned corner and stopped. They were on one of the main streets of town, beyond the hotels and surf shops. "Here we are." With a free hand, he pointed to the various stores. "You got a food store there, a pharmacy down the street, and, if you want, there's a post office down the way in the opposite direction."

"Thanks." Lupin was impressed over how amiable this man was. He opened the door and jumped down onto the sidewalk.

"Think you can get back all right?"

Lupin checked his watch. Forty minutes. He had plenty of time to shop, but then it would mean less time to get back. He surely couldn't cover it on foot.

"Well, I might need a ride back..." he said awkwardly.

"I can drive you back, if you want," he said. "I have a few things to send off at the post office."

"Really?" Just nobody offered people rides like this. Lupin tried to find a loophole in the man's favor, but could see none. "Aren't you afraid that I might hijack the vehicle or something?" he said suspiciously.

"You haven't done anything yet," the man replied simply. "I'll be at the office for about twenty minutes if you need a ride." He started up the engine again and drove off.

Lupin watched him leave, almost dumbfounded. Almost, but not quite. It was just that from his experience, people hated going out of their way to help anybody else. People, by nature, were selfish and valued their own time and convenience more than others. Either that or they did give, but with limits. A pound or two for the charity during Christmas, perhaps, or maybe a drive someplace. Considering it was close to the holiday season, that man was probably in the giving spirit.

He looked around, and immediately went into the store. The trip itself was brief, with Lupin taking only what he needed from the shelves and nothing more. Enough food to last a week, laundry detergent and minor toiletries. Within fifteen minutes he had the whole lot paid for.

His groceries all took up three bags, something he could barely handle on his own. He left them on a bench inside the store so his hands would be free while he was in the pharmacy. There, he took rolls of bandages, a couple boxes of tissues, cotton swabs and plenty of gauze, cold compresses, tubes of antibacterial creme, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. After checking the labels of the over-the-counter medicines, Lupin carefully choose a bottle of children's aspirin and some ibuprofen as well. He wasn't sure if Mary would need anything else.

This added an extra bag to his load, and so, carrying two in each hand, he made his way to the post office. The man was there like he said, postmarking a handful of letters. He looked up and gave a sincere smile. "That was quick," he said.

"Well, I'm sort of in a hurry." Lupin checked his watch again. Ten minutes left.

"Just give me a moment." The man stuck a final stamp onto his letter and then shipped the whole stack into the 'Out of Town' slot. "Need a hand?"

"Sure." Lupin gave him the lighter of the set of bags. Together, the two made their way back to the man's car and loaded the bags into the small compartment behind the front seats. As soon as they both got on the road again, the conversation continued where it had left off. 

"Why did your parents send you out without a car?" he asked curiously.

"Parents?"

"Yeah. I just think it's kind of strange for them expecting you to walk such a long way."

So the man thought him that young! Lupin looked at himself. Toby was only a teenager, wasn't he?

"Can you drive?"

"I'll be nineteen this April," Lupin supplied, recalling what Toby once told him. He had no idea what the driving age for a Muggle in England was. 

"Ah. You should get your license sometime." They arrived onto a residential street. "Now where do you live?" 

"Um, you can just drop me off at the end there," Lupin answered, refusing to name the address.

The man didn't notice. "Okay then." The truck pulled up at the corner and Lupin got out, unloading the bags. 

"Thank you so much, sir," he said gratefully. "Not everyone helps out like that." 

"No problem," the man replied. "I didn't mind."

Lupin, feeling obligated to express his appreciation more, stuck out his hand. "The name's Toby," he said.

"Well, your welcome, Toby." The man leaned over from the driver's seat to take his hand. "I'm Kevin."

The handshake faltered on Lupin's part. Had he heard that name somewhere before-? Something connected in his mind and he spluttered. "Kevin-?"

"Grisham." Kevin gave a small smile. "Pleasure to met you."

"Yes," Lupin managed to say. "S-same here." His hand jerked back somewhat suddenly, and he picked up the remainder of the grocery bags. "Good-bye."

Kevin closed the door and drove around the corner. Lupin stood on the sidewalk, watching him go around the curve, then down the street. Then, his feet slowly backed away. He should go. Yet Lupin couldn't break his eyes off the driver. Finally, he wrenched his gaze away. 

Inside the truck, Mary's father felt that someone was watching him. He glanced out the rear window. Yet the young man he had dropped off was nowhere to be seen.

_Sin of Lycaos_ will continue...

Any comments or constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated.


	9. The Lamb

For disclaimer and additional notes see part 1.

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Nine: The Lamb

By D.M.P.

***

Little lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee,

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed

By the stream and over the mead;

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing, woolly, bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales rejoice?

        Little lamb, who made thee?

        Dost thou know who made thee?

-William Blake, _"_The Lamb"

***

Chapter 33

Lupin was like a ghost upon returning to Her Majesty.  He dumped the bags unceremoniously onto the kitchen counter and ascended the steps to the master bedroom.  With silent steps, he slipped into the room and took his place next to Sirius.  For a long time he simply stared ahead of him at the little girl tucked in bed; his focus and solemnity made this akin to a knight's vigil.  He asked Sirius only one question.  

"Has she stirred at all?"

He shook his head.  "Not yet."

***

And so the hours passed.  

It was an impatient wait.  All Lupin could think of were Mary's parents.  They were in town.  A feeling rose up in his chest, like a caged burst of energy that screamed one word: _run._  They all had to leave.  He couldn't stay in the very same town where Mary's parents were, when he had met her father just walking down the street!  He didn't want to sleep under the roof of this house knowing that less than a few blocks away, her father was sleeping as well.  It made him feel guilty.

Not to say that he wasn't guilty before.  A secret that lurked in the back of his mind was Mary's past life.  She had a family and a home before him.  It wasn't as if she was a poor orphan whom he adopted out of the kindness of his heart.  Mary was stolen away from her home, from her loved ones, from humanity itself because of him.  He wasn't her protector and in this light, maybe not even her friend.  Lupin was her kidnapper.

These thoughts had been in unconscious existence the entire time Mary was in his care.  Only now, with the appearance of her father did they come to the surface.

Yet Lupin knew that he could not escape this guilt.  As long as they were far away from her former life, his conscience was clear.   Yet now, with her family only a walk away, now when distance was most critical, they were tied down to Brighton.  Mary was injured; they could not flee the city by foot.  Buckbeak was injured; he couldn't leave the city by air.  Thus, they had no means of escape.  Little by little, the feeling of entrapment welled up within him, catching in his lungs as if he couldn't breathe.  This feeling unsettled him.  He felt like a wild animal locked in a steel cage.

As the clock ticked off the hours, Lupin and Sirius talked.  Well, Sirius talked more so than Lupin.  He tried to liven up his friend's dark mood, telling all the other happenings that he and Buckbeak went through over the summer.  

In early September, Sirius told him, they headed over to Wales.  Something about a group of Muggles spotting them flying one night and mistaking them for UFOs....

"And I opened my eyes to see all of these Muggles in goulashes and umbrellas, dripping wet, pointing their pocket lights at me and staring as if they'd seen Merlin's ghost..."

His voice was still soft and slightly hoarse - an impairment he must have developed from years in a cold, dank Azkaban cell - but he almost sounded like his old self.  Yet Lupin stared off, lost in his own thoughts.  Sirius' talking became static to him.

"So I got up from the river bank as did Buckbeak right behind me.  Remember, both of us are covered in mud and reeds and it's pouring rain at 2 AM in the morning.  So Buckbeak simply cocked his head at them and went, 'Squawk?' " Sirius shook his head, stifling his chuckles.  "Those Muggles starting screaming and ran off, shouting 'Alien Invasion!' at the top of their lungs. It was ridiculous."  Sirius glanced over at Lupin and sighed, his mirth faded.  "Remus?"

Lupin snapped out of his reverie.  "Sorry, what was it?"

"Nothing."  Sirius gave an inward sigh and lowered his head.  He ran a hand through his hair.  "I know what you're thinking."

"You do?"  Lupin turned his head, feigning calmness.  He hadn't told Sirius about meeting up with Kevin, had he?

"That we wouldn't be in this much trouble if I hadn't shown up like I did today."

Oh.  

"I wasn't thinking of that."  This was true.

"None of this would have happened if we hadn't parted ways during the summer."

"It wouldn't have mattered," Lupin replied stiffly.

Sirius was probably going to say that it did matter, but then Lupin would have responded with a firm negative.  So he kept quiet.  

Lupin found that it was up to him to break the block in the conversation. "We both agreed it was for the best."

"You did, not me."  Sirius said shortly.

"My own actions are my fault," Lupin said firmly.  "I can take the consequences."

"And I can face up to my actions as well," Sirius retorted, "and what I did was let my friend go when I should have known that something was wrong."

"Don't blame yourself for things you didn't know."

"And that's the root of it.  I should have known!"

Both were silenced again.  Lupin shifted in his seat until both faced away from each other.

"Fine.  Perhaps I'm expecting too much too soon," Sirius admitted abruptly.  "After being left to rot in prison for over a decade, I've been cut out of the loop quite a bit."

So that's how he felt.  "It wasn't as if I didn't trust you, Sirius," Lupin explained sincerely.  "I just don't need anyone to gloss over my problems, or to pat me on the back and say that it's all going to be better.  I don't need pity."

"Of course, Remus," Sirius said dryly.  "Whatever you say."

The tension that they created before Lupin went out returned with double force.  But before either one of them could say another word, a stirring came from the bed.  Mary's position moved slightly, her small face turning towards them.

"Hey," Sirius pointed out.  Lupin hushed him and pulled his chair closer to the bed.  

The girl's eyelids flickered open and a soft groan escaped her lips.  Her eyed opened fully and focus on them.  "Remmy...?"

"I'm here," he replied gently.  "You had been through a lot today.  How do you feel?"

"I dunno..." Her sleepy eye wandered to gaze at her surroundings.  "Where are we?"

"We're in your castle by the sea," he told her.  "Her Majesty.  Isn't it beautiful?"

Mary couldn't answer.  She groaned louder and tried to sit up, only to buckle with pain.  She fell back onto the bed, gasping.  Lupin bit his lip.  "My leg hurts," she said in a scratchy voice.  "My arm hurts too.  A lot."

"Yes, it was quite an accident.  You want me to take a look at your arm?"

Mary nodded slowly, still only half-awake.  Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes.  "Shhhhh." Lupin reached over and carefully took her wrist, loosening the terrycloth towel around it.  "I went to the store," he told her.  "Got some medicine for you to take to help make you feel better."

She nodded.  It was then she noticed Sirius.  "W-who's he?"

"Only a friend," Lupin replied.  "Say hello to Sirius. Sirius?"

Sirius lifted up his hand and waggled his fingers at her.  "Uh, hello."

"Hi."  She paused.  "Are you a werewolf too?"

"Unfortunately, I don't have that privilege," Sirius answered friendly, "I'm only a convict on the run."

"Oh."  Mary didn't know how to respond to that, the humor lost to her.  She shifted herself slowly away from the side of the bed.

"But I'm harmless, really," Sirius said hastily.

She nodded politely, but averted her gaze away from him.

Lupin brought the salve out and rubbed it over her wrist.  He picked up a fresh roll of cloth bandage that he brought and tore off the cellophane wrapping.  He was wrapping her wrist when she asked, "Did we get the man?"

"What?" he asked.

"The man who was outside.  That was gonna get us."

Sirius glanced at Lupin, but he calmly went on, "Yes, we certainly did.  You managed to scare that intruder out of his wits.  He ran off screaming."

"He did?"

"But not until I got a chance to tackle him into the sand for a bit.  Must have surprised him.  We got into a terrible fight." He pressed against the joint.  "Does it hurt when I do this?"

"Not really.  So you punched him and stuff?"  Mary was becoming more alert now, sitting up without cringing. 

"Oh yes."  Lupin tucked the bandage in and took a boxer pose.  "I gave him one to the left smack in the jaw," he said, imitating his swing.  

"And it was a killer blow too," Sirius added.

"Yes, it must have hurt him quite a bit," Lupin, continued.  "But he got a few good shots in too.  I dodged to the right, then to the left, and then I gave a low kick and tripped him up like this."  He got up from his seat, gave a one-two punch, then a low kick.  "Yet he pulled me down with him in a headlock."  Lupin pretended a third arm was pulling him down by the neck and he hit the floor.  "And then I gave him a kick in the side, and he flipped me over and pulled my arm over behind my back-" He demonstrated, which made him look like he was having spasms on the ground than wrestling an invisible foe.  As a result, Sirius was giving Lupin the oddest expression, a mix between a blank stare and unexpected bewilderment.

But Mary's eyes shone as she got into the story.  "But of course you fought him off, right?" she said.

"Oh, he was right about to knock me out," Lupin affirmed.  "He got me caught with my hands behind my back and threatened to smother me in the sand.  But you know what I said?"

"What?"

Lupin looked up at her from his tangle on the floor.  "Well, I told him," he said seriously, " 'I have to warn you, sir.  If you dare pluck a hair from my head, that wild pup you saw inside that shack there will come bounding after you and rip your throat out.' " 

"And he believed that?"  Mary said excitedly.

"Every word," he confided.  "As soon as I said that, he grew a white as a sheet, let me go, and hightailed it out of there!"  He jumped to his feet and fixed up his clothing.  "I wouldn't know what I'd do without you."

"You helped me too," she said.  "I couldn't really tear the man's throat out, because I got hurt."   

"But you were unbelievably brave," Lupin said.  "I couldn't have been that brave when I was your age."

Mary was practically beaming, almost forgetting her pain.  

"Could you get that medicine, Sirius?" he asked.

"Sure."  Sirius recovered from Lupin's change of attitude.  He reached into the paper bag on the floor that was filled with the medical supplies and took out the bottle.  Taking that and a plastic spoon, he offered them to Lupin.

"Thank you."  Lupin read the label on the bottle for the twentieth time.  "One teaspoon," he said to himself, then opened the bottle.  He poured out the allotted liquid onto a spoon and gave it to her.  Mary swallowed quickly, and then wrinkled her nose.  "It tastes bad," she said.  

"Here." He handed her a cup of water.  "You hungry?" he asked.

"A little bit."

"I'll get something for you then."  Lupin got up from his seat.  "Just rest now."  He tucked the blanket in more.

Sirius rose as well.  "I'll need to check up on Buckbeak," he said.  "Do you mind?"

Lupin checked with Mary.  She gave a tired nod.  Already, she seemed ready to fall back asleep; she didn't even bother to ask who Buckbeak was.

"We won't take long," Lupin told her.

When the two were in the hall, Sirius observed aloud, "You act different with the girl."

"I do?"

"Yeah."  He bypassed Lupin on the stairwell.  "You're really fond of her, aren't you?"

"Of course.  She's my pup."  Lupin felt a sunken feeling deep in his heart.  In the back of his mind, a wicked conscience whispered, _She's your pup, but you are not her father._

***

Parsons had slept barely four hours.  He had woken up with a start at his desk at eight o' clock AM.  Twelve hours later proved that little sleep didn't affect his work.  There was no significance of this nap, really, except for this dream that wouldn't go away.  This vision that had been plaguing his nights for a little less than a week now, ever since the Safehouse sweep.  That damned she-wolf wouldn't leave him alone, not even during the night.  

For during then he had the strangest dreams.  That wolf, Claire de Chien-Loup, would be locked up in a cage or a cell or a prison of some sort - the backdrop always changed.  She would be waiting for him.  Parsons, dark, sinister, and dressed in uniform would come in and attack her.  Pinning her to the ground, tearing off her clothes, killing her while loving her....  

He wouldn't call them nightmares, but that was only because he was never frightened of those dreams, but found pleasure in them.  The hurt, the abuse, the screams - it was all graphically realistic.  He didn't know why he found it all so provocative.  A laconic, dispassionate man by choice and standard all his life, these sudden images were both appalling yet appealing.  To assault the woman who despised him, to provoke hatred greater than before, to shame and embarrass her for his entertainment - this was what he wanted.  And during that fateful interrogation that was what he almost accomplished.  The only thing that knocked some sense into him was that this was not a fulfillment of some twisted fantasy, but strict reality, and he was about to commit sodomy.  He believed that raping a werewolf would be equivalent to making love to a stray dog.  He only stopped not because of some inner righteousness, but because of some inner wretchedness.

Even now, he had sent her away immediately, locked up in a cell similar to one in his nocturnal fancies.  Part of him never wanted to see her again; the other half wanted to finish the job.  These ambivalent confused him.  This was a situation his rigid mind could barely cope with.

In the end, it can be noted that what a man enjoys says a lot about his soul.

But that was the least of his problems.  A more solid, materialistic situation came up: his job.  He preoccupied his mind with the second problem because he feared tackling the other.  He pushed it in the back of his mind.  He wouldn't think about it while awake.  While asleep was another matter.

As of then, Parsons was pacing his office in silent rage, in a state of complete agitation.  He couldn't believe it.  He absolutely couldn't believe it.  He, Roger Parsons - ten-year veteran at the Registry of Magical Creatures - lead investigator in over 80 cases - one of the most respected expert in the field of werewolves - had been booted off the Havenshire case.  Additionally, he was threatened to be removed from the Ianikit case as well.  What did Parsons ever do wrong?  Nothing!  He was only doing his job! 

Less than an hour ago, his supervisor had barged into his office, shouting so loud the windows shook.  He couldn't believe the melodramatic stunt Parsons pulled at the press conference!   What was Parsons trying to do, get them all in hot water with the Ministry?  Start another spree of lycanthrope hate crimes?  Stir the people into absolute panic??

Parsons had a defense.  The public had a right to know what was going on.  They suspected the worst already; you need to maintain good relations with the public.  Face the facts, sir.  A wolf attacks a girl two months ago.  It's everywhere in the Muggle papers.  Some reporter from the _Daily Prophet_ gets word and puts in a brief mention of it that day.  Guess what?  RMC becomes swamped with calls, sir.  Yet we don't say a word.  Rumors spread about a cover-up.  Reporters harass the Registry for weeks on end.  Suddenly, the Havenshire case is given to us from the Department of Mysteries.  The news hounds launch their attack.  The public is stirring.   Rumors grow.  People start panicking.  And now this: five officers massacred by a werewolf.  There has to be a breaking point for the public, sir.  If we didn't tell them now, more might be killed sir.  The public has to be on guard.

His supervisor agreed to this, true.  But still, Parsons breached the line of authority.  He acted selfishly and in an irresponsible manner.  There was no other choice.  He would be kicked off the Havenshire case assignment immediately and new investigators will be assigned to work on it.  Any further and he would be relieved from duty.  "Watch your step, agent," was the closing remark.  "We're here to protect the wizards _and_ the creatures of Great Britain.  Don't forget that."

So Parsons was going to be kicked off the Havenshire case.  At the moment, his brain became a boiling furnace.  Don't forget that, his foot!  Not responsible?  He was being responsible!  It was only the public's right to know!  He didn't need to be told what to do!  The Havenshire case was _his_ case and he could do whatever he felt like with it!

The door to his office opened.  Parsons saw thin air.  A sudden _whoosh!_ revealed an imposing figure in the doorway.  "Croaker," he said.  "What a surprise."

The Unspeakable walked into the room with a swaggering step.  "I came to see how you're handling things," he said smoothly.  He immediately took a seat across from Parsons' desk.  "Don't mind if I do," he added, propping his feet up.

Parsons stiffened and narrowed his eyes at the man lounging in front of him.  Such rudeness!  "Isn't it a breach against conduct for you to just waltz in here?" he said stiffly.  "I'm busy."

"Aw, I won't be long, Roger," Croaker, scratched the back of his head casually.  "Heard you got creamed by your boss about Havenshire."  

"Yes, I had, Croaker."  Parsons tried not to speak too gratingly.  But Croaker had touched a nerve in him, and he was already mad.  "I wouldn't like to talk about it at the moment."

"You did have a bad sense of timing when you announced it, though.  No offense, but it was a real jackass move."  Croaker had tucked his hands behind his head and was leaning back in his chair.  Getting comfortable in his office was not a sign indicating quick departure.

"And what are you doing here then?  Do you want to observe my humiliation?"  Parsons frowned slightly to himself.  If he hated anything about the Ministry it was the insufferable higher officials.  Especially higher officials who were supposedly top-secret.  Other characters from the Department of Mysteries were quite shady, but Croaker was known to stick his nose into other departments just for his personal amusement.  He probably already knew all the going-ons already, though; after all, he was the undercover right hand to Cornelius Fudge himself.  

Not to say that this arrogance Croaker obviously displayed was void within Parsons' own character.  The arrogant are hypocrites; they despise in others what they do not see in themselves.  And, in accordance with this thought in human nature, it would be safe to say that Parsons did not have the kindest thoughts toward this Unspeakable.  Croaker, thinking he was the greatest Ministry official who ever lived, was oblivious to the dislike. 

Parsons tapped his foot against the floor.  "Don't you have any... covert operations you should be getting to?" he inquired, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.

The front chair legs slammed to the ground as Croaker whipped his boots off the desk.  "Hey, Lupin was mine to bag before I got him taken away from me," he said sharply.  "I know how you feel."

"Got taken away from you?"  Parsons asked.   "This case rightfully belongs with my department."

"I was handling it too, and doing a damn good job of it," Croaker fired.  "Yet I fouled up at the Tournament and got my head chewed off by Fudge for that!"  He was clearly upset by the loss of this case.  "When he found out that it was Lupin disguised as Ianikit, he went wild.  Said that Lupin was enough of a threat from what happened at Hogwarts last summer and didn't want the wolf snooping around there again.  Then Fudge told me that I wasn't managing the case efficiently enough and so it was put under the Registry's complete authority."

"Imagine that," Parsons said dryly.  "I'm sure that you have other matters to attend to, though."  He opened the door and gestured with an open palm.  

"You have no idea what you're getting into," Croaker said, ignoring the hint.  "Believe me, I've worked for the RMC once years ago, and I know you probably think you've handled some big things..."

Parsons tensed up.  "You have no authority to be in my office."

"Look here, Roger, these werewolves are a much bigger threat than you think-"

"Don't act like if I don't know," Parsons snapped. He eschewed all niceties now.  "Leave, Croaker."

"I have a proposal to make with you first."  Croaker got up to his feet and prepared to depart.  "Let me tell you a few things," he said, staring Parsons down at the doorway.  He reached over and shut the door closed.  "Maintaining peaceful relations with these beasts has been intense.  Resistance has been building up for years now, and I'm not talking about in this country alone.  The concerns go up to the International Confederation of Wizards.  They're talking about extremist parties down in the Balkans.  They're talking about rebels sprouting up in Eastern Europe stockpiling Muggle weapons.  Who knows, one could be hatching right here in the UK."

"Nothing I'm not aware about," Parsons retorted.

"You know what I think?"  Croaker said.  He was on a roll now; he wouldn't go until he had his say.  "I think we should do the same thing that the Americans did with their wolves.  Round them all up and relocate them to where they're not a threat.  They shouldn't be free to live all around Europe; that's how all this trouble started up, when they could meet together."

"And what does all this have to do with me now?"  Parsons snapped.  "I'm not allowed to go near the Havenshire case."

"Neither am I."  Croaker agreed.  "But I'm getting to the point here.  I have a gut feeling that Lupin is helping these rebels out.  If he slips through our fingers, then the UK wolves will get magic.  Five officers are dead and plenty more will die if we don't get that wolf soon."

"We?"

"I propose that we bag Lupin together."

If Parsons had a more easy-going temperament, he would have laughed.  "How can you ask this?" he negated.  "We're both on the edge already.  I'm a hairsbreadth away from getting reprimanded."

"So am I.  Yet it's a risk I'm willing to take.  I don't want to be snubbed when I came so close to getting to case finished myself.  And I know you feel the same.  We have the same aims, and I can only do some much by myself."

Parsons paused as if absorbing this information.  Yet what he thought was that Croaker didn't need any help at all; he just wanted an underling to order about.  And Parsons was not the underling type.  "How do you expect us to get the men needed for the job?" he questioned.  "We can't request officers to help us."

"We'll do it ourselves."

"Impossible!"  Parsons scoffed.  "Overseas involvement is already needed for Havenshire.  The wolf's fled to America."

"How do you know?  Just because it said in the interrogation doesn't mean he actually made it there."

"Well, if you want to be sent to the Centaur Office, then I'm fine with that.  However, I like my job."  Parsons opened the door again.  "Do what you want, Croaker, but leave me out of it."

The Unspeakable was going to say something else, but the look in Parsons' eye warned him not to.  "You just missed a great opportunity," he said gruffly, then pushed his way past the RMC officer and left down the hall.  Even though the hallways were brightly lit, within moments, he seemed to have vanished into thin air.  One of the much gloated-skills an Unspeakable had - that is, full use of Invisibility cloaks.

Parsons shut the door securely and sat down at his desk, slightly disgruntled.  If the man wanted to go on a wild unicorn chase, then fine with him.  At least _he_ wasn't that obsessive over his cases...

What a lie. 

A conference mirror by the sidewall blinked.  Parsons waved a hand at it and Yoshimoro appeared.  "Roger, Ianikit's going to arraigned at Nemesis in an hour.  We have to be there."

He lifted his head.  "Does the Council request a report?"

"Already done.  The Committee's practically decided already.  The case is in the bag."  Yoshimoro gave a look of concern.  "Are you all right?  You look tired."

He ignored the question.  "I'll be there in twenty minutes," he told her.

Chapter 34

A knock on the door.

"Kevin?"

"Come in."

The door creaked open.  Janet peered around to see her husband with a book laid out in front of him.  They were the only ones in the house, since both Rachel and her husband were at work during the day.  One was a residential ER doctor, the other a carpenter two towns away.   "Brought you something."  She stepped into the room carrying a steaming mug.

"Thank you, dear."  Kevin glanced over his shoulder and gave a wan smile.   He cleared a spot on the table and took the mug from his wife.  Setting it down, he then offered her a chance to see what he was working on.

The room they were in was originally his sister's old sewing room, but now it had been re-vamped into a temporary office of sorts.  The piles of cloth and old sewing machine had been pushed into the overstuffed closet while the scarred, rickety table remained where it was, shoved up against the far right corner.  A bare window gave the table occupant a fine view of the rest of the neighborhood, and perhaps a slice of the shore as well, if looked at from a certain angle.

A dry cough escaped her throat.  "It's terrible in here," she said.  "Why don't you dust sometime?"  She flicked on the wall switch.  "And turn on the light as well.  It gets dark early in December."

Kevin gave a vague nod.  "I've been checking the records," he said to her.  "Remember J.C. Hammond?"

Janet nodded.  "Of course I do."

A week after the Havenshire attack a wealthy businessman named J.C. Hammond had contacted them through telephone with his sincere condolences about Mary.  He claimed to be a resident near their village and the owner of the said rabid timber wolf.  Timber wolves not being native to England, that explanation made sense.  Distraught about their daughter's death, he offered to pay for the funeral service.  The Grishams accepted.  However, J.C. Hammond himself never showed up for the funeral, nor did he ever made contact with them after the call.  Kevin found it obviously suspicious.  Janet thought that the man felt guilty enough already and didn't want to become too involved.

"Well, I tried contacting him through telegram the other day.  I asked the funeral director where he sent the bill to and received the address that way."

Janet crossed her arms.  She wasn't very enthusiastic about the Reverend spending all his time locked up in this room.  They came here to forget about their problems for a while, to try and take a break from the world before starting anew.  Not to say that life without their daughter was nothing more than a lifestyle adjustment.  A piece of them died with her.  But by now Janet realized that Mary wouldn't want them to grieve forever.  She was trying to move on.  Recently, she got a teaching job as a teacher's assistant at a primary school in town and would start work after the new year.

Yet Kevin wouldn't let her go.  Ironic, considering that because of his occupation, he would be the one with the most faith about Mary's spirit being laid to rest.  But Kevin.... he was the one who believed that there was some kind of - oh, it was crazy to say - conspiracy going on.  He told her once, "I would be happy if I knew she had died, Janet.  She's still alive, and they're hiding her from us."  When she asked, "Who's they?" he would only reply with, "That's what I'm trying to find out."

This conspiracy theory motivated him to go investigate the Havenshire attack himself.  He got files on what the researchers at the Bowingburg Center for Animal Research found at the site, and the tests they ran.  He spent his days there talking with the head veterinarian and head genetic scientist about how rabies affected their victims and what exactly did the DNA testing mean.  He rarely left the house other than to do these tasks, and then never left this very room, not even to eat or sleep.  A sleeping bag was rolled up underneath the table, but from the looks of it, Kevin went for very long periods without sleep. 

Kevin called it being focused on the truth.  Janet thought he was going through extreme denial and she worried profusely about him.  Only a few days ago did she succeed in persuading him to leave the house to relax, and take his mind off Havenshire.  He claimed to have done enough relaxing after a couple hours and locked himself back inside.  "Name one worthwhile thing you did then," Janet had challenged.

"I set out some letters for Rachel and gave someone a lift into town," he had said in defense.

She now asked a different question.  "Did he answer back?"

Kevin pointed out a particular line in the stack of papers.  "It came back to me the other day while I was at the post office."

"Why?" 

"J.C. Hammond doesn't live at that address."

"What do you mean?  Then how could he have paid for the bills if they weren't sent to that address?"

"I know.  I called the director again and she told me that's the address they were given.  And the bills were paid for, in cash, the very next day."

"Kevin, please don't bother the poor gentleman.  He's done enough for us already." In truth, for once, her husband was beginning to make sense.  

"You want to see something else?"  He fished out a file.  "It's a copy of the testing they ran on the fur and blood samples from the site," he said.  He flipped open the cover and leafed through a couple papers.  "Here, here look at this," he said, offering up a photocopied sheet.  "Look at the conclusion."  He pointed to a highlighted section.  "Read this."

She did.  " 'The chromosome count off.... hypothesis that this creature may be a hybrid, but not of the dog-wolf type.... evidence of human DNA not associated with the victim at the site...  This DNA is not separate from the wolf DNA, but rather a combination of the two... High alcohol levels were also found…' " She raised her eyes, bewildered.  "Kevin, what does this mean?"

"That initially, the DNA found at the site was not a wolf's.  The results were clear enough."  He gestured to the rest of the lab results. "  However, if you look at this..." Another file was presented.  "This was a second testing of the DNA.  No human DNA was found that time around and so the human-wolf theory was thrown out."

"And what does this all mean?"  All this new information scared her.  She didn't want to believe it.  

"It means that whatever killed our daughter wasn't a wolf," he answered.  "And someone tried to cover it up."

Janet paused for a moment in shock.  "Ridiculous," she whispered.

"It's not," he said.

"They did the testing over and said so themselves that they made a mistake.  It's just simply, simply-" she grasped about for a word,  "-mad to think otherwise!" she finally said.  

"I believe the first test," Kevin avowed.  "Then it all makes sense."

"What do you mean it makes sense?"  Janet fumed.  "That there's some monster roaming around the forest?"

"Well, what about a man who doesn't even exist?"  Her husband fired back.  "Who actually wants to own a timber wolf in the first place for God's sake?"

"He was from the Northwest Territory," Janet compromised.  "He told us on the phone, remember?  The wolf's mother was shot on their property and he adopted a pup which he raised and brought over-"

"Horsefeathers!" Kevin burst out, rising from his seat.  "I tried looking him up.  I tried finding him.  He's not in the phone book or his town's directory.  I called the number I got and the line's disconnected.  I had the police search any sort of past record and there is none.  Janet, there is no trace of him at all!"

"So?"  Janet let her hands fall to her side and clenched her fists.  "What kind of idea are you thinking up then?" she asked, trying to retain steadiness.  She was shaking.

"I think," he explained, "that this was all a cover-up.  It was no rabid wolf who attacked our daughter." He hesitated before saying the next sentence.  "I think... she was attacked by a werewolf."

This stunned Janet into silence for a full minute.  When she finally responded, it was in the form of a choked laugh.  "You-" she spluttered, "you believe _that_?"

Kevin sighed.  "Yes," he said softly.  "I do."  Janet turned away from him.  He reached out and touched her shoulder.  "Don't think I'm crazy, Janet," he said.  He stared at her, trying to meet her gaze, yet his wife wouldn't face him.  "That woman..." They both knew whom he was referring too.  The lady who changed their lives when she came to their church and put a bullet into her head two years ago.  They never spoke her name out loud; it was like a sacrilege.  Names familiarized you with a person.  They refused to speak her name before because they were afraid to think of her.

Janet broke that unspoken rule.  "Her name was Elyse," she said hoarsely.

"Elyse...." Kevin said slowly.  "Yes, Elyse."  He cleared his throat.  His voice soon became barely audible.  "In the church.... Elyse told me many things that day, Janet, before she killed herself.  Some things I could not believe then, but I can believe now."

Janet felt her pulse stiffen.  "What things?"

"How she was alienated as a child and branded as an outcast by her village.  How she spent her years wandering alone and spent nights selling her body for money to live.  How she coped with all of the pain and suffering that she went through every month when the moon was at its fullest." Kevin paused.  "She told me that she was a werewolf."

Her face was slightly pale before, but at those words she went completely pallid.  "Impossible..." she murmured.

"She showed me the bite.  It was real," he added.

Janet pretended she didn't hear that.  "Was that why you locked yourself upstairs afterwards?  Was that why you never talked to anyone about it?" she questioned flatly.  Yet her voice cracked at the next question.  "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Kevin turned her around, gently, carefully.  "I was so confused afterwards," he whispered.  "I didn't know what to make of it.  I thought she was insane."    

Janet took his hand in hers.  She was shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears and moving back and forth as if trying to find a way out of this conversation.  Then they settled on his face.  "Don't do this to me, Kevin," she said fearfully.  She squeezed his hand desperately.  "Please..."

"You... you don't believe me?"  

"I..." Her knees buckled from under her and Janet fell weakly against him.  Kevin wrapped his free arm around her.  He raised her other hand to his lips, kissed it wholeheartedly and pressed it against his chest as if establishing a lifeline.  For a long time they stayed in this position, husband and wife, lost in their own confusion.  

Janet refused to sob.  The tears welled up in her eyes but she forced them down, along with the lump in his throat.  A small hiccupping sound came as a result - half a tear and half a sob.  God, she couldn't start believing it!  Kevin wasn't going to stop, was he?  Circumstances were already hard on them already.  Janet was trying to move on and he was pulling them back with this- this nonsense!  She bit her lower lip.  "Rachel's worried about you," she said into his shoulder.  Kevin eased his grip.  "We both are."

"Worried about what?"

"About how you're been acting.  We..." Janet took a breath and backed out of their embrace.  "We want you to see someone."

"See someone?" he repeated blankly.

"A grief counselor.  Rachel knows one in Slough.  He's highly recommended."

"You... and Rachel... want me to see a grief counselor?"

"He's more of a therapist.  He can help."

The Reverend blinked.  "A therapist."

"I want us to go see him.  Together."  Janet lapsed into silence.

Kevin turned back to his papers, letting his hands hover over them as if calculating gold.  He glanced out the window but saw nothing.  His shoulders slumped forward and he seated himself back down.  Meticulously he gathered up his papers back into their organized piles.  Then he spoke.  "Thank you again for the tea," he said solemnly.  "That will be all."

"But Kevin-" she stopped herself.  "Will you be down for supper?" she asked instead.

"Maybe."  Kevin cleaned his glasses against his flannel shirtsleeve.  He got a book out titled _Urban Dangers: When Wild Animals Move into Civilization_ and opened to a book marked page.  Soon, he busied himself with the information within, ignoring her presence.

Janet sighed and left the room, shutting the door behind her.  

***

Now the town of Brighton had its own newspaper called the_ Argus_.  This newspaper provided everything from local news to weather to high school sport scores.  A small section in the Opinions page of this newspaper was reserved for the town gossip, Sheila Kibitzer.  How she got a job working for the paper no one really knew, because she had never written anything worthwhile.  The only article of any value that sprouted from her pen was an extensive story about how the town clerk discovered his wife with the mailman one Sunday afternoon.  Ms. Kibitzer had the skill of rooting up information like that.       

If any wizard were to meet her, they would remark that she had to be related to Rita Skeeter. 

Using this nosy talent of hers, Ms. Kibitzer uprooted a surprising fact about Rachel Ford's brother.  The minister had taken a sabbatical from his job and moved into town with his wife a couple months ago.  Their reasons from this move stemmed from the death of their only daughter, who was attacked by a timber wolf in October.  Those circumstances were quite enough to get Ms. Kibitzer's curiosity piqued.  

As a result, she suddenly had the need to "invite her good friend Rachel down to tea."  This was Ms. Kibitzer's usual way to get the latest scoop on something: corner the victim and then pester them until the truth came out.  Rachel managed to fudge her way out of this gossip's trap, but Janet fell for it.  Being a newcomer to Brighton, she was naive to Ms. Kibitzer's tricks. 

This fateful teatime occurred the day after Janet's confrontation with her husband.  And, through means mysterious to all who do not gossip, Ms. Kibitzer managed to hear that Kevin Grisham suspected that a werewolf was the cause of Mary's death.  Needless to say, she had a field day.

The following week, a story came out in _The Argus_ about the minister from Havenshire and his obsession with werewolves.  The only line worthy of quoting from this superfluous article is this: "It is a tragedy to lose a child, but one must wonder how far a person should go to answer the question, 'Why?'  Reverend Kevin Grisham looks upwards, yet not to the heavens, but to the moon."

This article was later clipped out and sent by owl to the Registry of Magical Creatures by a wizard informant.  But it was Croaker who got hold of it first.

***

The date was now the eleventh of December.  Four days before the next full moon.  By that time, the tensions between Lupin and Sirius had faded away, mostly since both had to care for Mary.  Time had been kind to her as well.  Her wrist was completely healed.  She could sit up in bed, and stay awake for a few hours before becoming tired.  She was beginning to eat more solid foods; at first, Lupin had kept her on a liquid-based diet.  The only concern he had about her was that her leg wasn't getting any better.  Her calf and shin had become beet red, and Mary couldn't move the leg without igniting sharp spasms of pain.  Lupin kept the wound clean and covered, hoping that it wouldn't become gangrene.  

Mary was getting a bit stronger day by day, and he hoped that soon, she would be able to be strong enough for travel.  She will be after the full moon, he assured himself.  

That evening he had a special surprise for her.  

"Where are we going?" Mary asked as Lupin lifted her from the bed.  Since she had limited use of her legs, he carried her sideways like a baby, careful not to handle her injured leg too roughly.

"Just close your eyes," he told her.

She did as he said.  He took two steps toward the stairs, and then stopped.  "You're peeking," he accused playfully.

"I'm not!"  Mary clenched her eyes shut just to prove him wrong.  "See?"

Lupin cracked a small smile, and then descended the steps.  "You know Buckbeak?"

"That bird the chicken man has?"  That was Mary's recent nickname for Sirius; the proper title was "Sirius the world-famous chicken thief."   The name was a running joke that sprung out of a teasing match between the three of them about a week ago.  Mary had asked why Sirius had joined them and Lupin had covered quickly with, "He's running from the police too."  When she asked why, Sirius came up with the most random excuse possible: that he was a wanted chicken thief who stole a prize rooster from a farmer in Wales.  Thus, he became a labeled as the "the chicken man" by Mary.  Lupin changed it to the more dignified title of "world-famous chicken thief."  Sirius bore the name with abashed pride.  

"Yes," Lupin answered.  "But I have to tell you something."

"What?"  Her eyes were still shut.  He teetered unsteadily on a step and she grabbed his neck for support.  

"Buckbeak isn't a bird."

"Then what is he?"

"That's the surprise."

Mary had been confined to the master bedroom during their stay at her Majesty.  She had only seen the upstairs portion of the house, never the lower floor.  Since Buckbeak resided on the ground floor, the two never met.  Occasionally when he would call out, Sirius explained to her that he was a pet bird.  Tonight, Lupin wanted to introduce the hippogriff to her.

They had reached the bottom of the steps.  Lupin brought her into the living room.  "Now don't be scared," he advised.  "He may look a bit intimidating, but he's quite friendly."

"I promise I won't be scared."

"All right then."  He gingerly set her sideways on the parlor sofa, propping her legs up with cushions.  Gesturing to Sirius, Lupin motioned for him to lead Buckbeak into the room.  The hippogriff's injuries had disappeared over the past few days.  Since then, he had been restless for a chance to spread his wings.  Sirius escorted Buckbeak into the room with a hand on his neck.  

Lupin whispered in her ear, "Open your eyes."

Mary did and let out an immediate gasp.  She stared at Buckbeak, eyes wide and mouth gaping.  Lupin could practically feel her surprise and wonderment.  She leaned toward the animal and Lupin caught her before she could tumble off the narrow sofa.  She grasped the armrest to straighten herself up.  "What- what is that?" she said softly.

"He's a hippogriff."  Lupin kneeled down by her.  "See that?  The front part of an eagle and the hind part of a horse.  Look at how the feathers fuse into fur where the neck and the chest meet.  Look at the fine, silky tail.  And that wingspan!"  Mary looked dumbly, too astonished for words.

Buckbeak, flattered by such attention, stared down at the girl with the same curiosity.  Mary's hand reached up towards him.  The hippogriff snorted loudly, backing up a few steps.  "Whoa, boy," Sirius reassured.  "She just wants to take a look."

"Do you want to pet him?" Lupin asked.  

"Just a little."

Sirius coaxed Buckbeak to move closer.  "Come on, old boy, come on."  Buckbeak looked down at Mary with a haughty gleam in his eye.  "Just give him a little bow," he told Mary.

She hesitated, and then did an awkward dip.  Buckbeak stared down at her as if deciding whether that bow earned his respect or not.

"Don't be a snob now," Sirius said.  Buckbeak turned his head toward him and gave an indignant "Squawk!" as if saying; "I can be a snob if I want to!"  However, he bent his front legs forward and bowed in turn.  Mary was acceptable.

Lupin nudged her shoulder.  "Go ahead."

Mary pursed her lips together worriedly, but tried again.  This time, Buckbeak moved forward and placed his beak underneath her hand.  Mary gasped, then smiled with pleasure as she stroked the hippogriff lightly.  Lupin reflected her happiness, smiled proudly with his arms crossed.  "Do you like him?"

"He's... he's simply lovely!" she breathed.  

At her reaction, Buckbeak puffed his chest out and came closer so Mary could scratch the feathers on his head.  

"It's so soft!" she squealed joyfully.  "Like a cloud!"  She stroked the spot right between his eyes, and Buckbeak emitted a content growl, similar to a cat's purr.  "You're the most handsomest hippogriff I've ever seen!"

The hippogriff got even smugger.  He straightened up his posture and flicked his tail up high.

"Oh, give me a break," Sirius muttered.  "You're the only hippogriff she's ever seen.  Ow!"  That cry had emerged when Buckbeak had stomped on his toes with a hind leg.  Sirius clutched his foot and began hopping around the room.  "What was that for?" he cried.  

Buckbeak snapped his jaws at him then turned back to Mary for some more praise and petting.  Lupin chuckled under his breath.  

Sirius gave a snort similar to Buckbeak's earlier one.  "Are we going to take them out?" he asked.

"Out?" Mary latched onto the word hopefully.

"It's cold."  Lupin went to the parlor window and pulled back the curtain.  A freezing rain had come earlier that week, along with a powdering of snow.  The result was an abandoned night street coated with a thin layer of icy slush.  The sky was pitch dark, lighted only by the half-full moon.  "I did plan for a quick ride, though...."

"A ride?"  she exclaimed excitedly.  "I can ride him?"

"You have to bundle up first."  He lifted up several blankets and robes.  "I'll help you dress."

In a matter of minutes, Mary was ready.  She snaked her way into the mass of robes that she was offered; Lupin actually dumped out her entire Safehouse wardrobe and some of his to dress her.  After than came a couple thick blankets and a little green cap for her head.  

"I'm hot!" she gasped.  "Are you sure I have to wear all this, Remmy?"  Her skinny limbs were bundled up so heavily that she could barely move.  When she tried, she rolled off the seat cushions and onto the floor. "Oof!"

"I might have overdone it a bit," he agreed.  He took off a robe and declared her ready to go out.  Sirius and he put on extra clothes themselves for the freezing outdoor temperatures.  

"Everything all set?" Lupin asked.  He picked up her again in his arms.    
  


"You sure its safe enough?"  Sirius wondered.  

"It's almost ten o'clock," he said.  "I don't think anyone would be around..."

The group left through and front door and came to the street. All around them were darkened houses.  Above them was the inky black sky.  With all this darkness and desolation around them, it seemed as if they were the only ones in the world.  Lupin held Mary even tighter to him.  The frigid air was intense; already he felt his bare fingers turning numb.

"Just a quick ride," he murmured to himself.  Wispy clouds of vapor hovered over his mouth as he spoke.

Buckbeak seemed the most comfortable in this atmosphere; his heavy covering of fur and feathers protected him.  Now that he was outside, Buckbeak spread out his great wings and flapped them.  He stretched his legs and pranced about on the street, stretching the kinks out of his body.  His back hooves hit against the frozen puddles in the road, unleashing loud, cracking sounds into the night.

"Hey, boy, get over here!"  Sirius called. He tried to be quiet, but his voice traveled easily.  Winter air was a great sound conductor.  

Buckbeak rolled his neck around in a luxurious stretch and trotted over.  His hoof beats became highlighted against the asphalt.  

Sirius had a halter in his hand and slipped the tattered rope over the hippogriff's head.  "Go easy with Remus," he said.  "He's a first-time flyer."  Then, he offered the reins to Lupin.  "You sure you're ready for this?"

"I think so."  Lupin handed Mary over to him while he bowed before the hippogriff.  Buckbeak, a willing accomplice, bowed instantly.  After, Lupin mounted the animal, and then hoisted the girl to sit sideways in front of him.  They were positioned so that Lupin straddled the hippogriff, while Mary was tucked in between him and Buckbeak's neck.  Lupin's arms were on either side of her, holding onto the rope.  "Just grab onto the halter," he instructed.  Mary took the robe and snuggled in closer to Lupin.  

"Got it?"

"Yup."

"Don't fly too high," Sirius advised.  "Go over to the beach where you won't be seen."

"We won't be long."  Lupin got a good grip on the reins, and then squeezed his knees against Buckbeak's sides.  The hippogriff flicked his tail in anticipation before launching himself into the winter night.  

The take off was so forceful and sudden that both he and Mary jumped in their seats.  The horizon swung at an angle as the hippogriff rose to a higher altitude.  Mary gave a cry and wrapped both arms around the large, feathery neck.  Lupin, startled, held on to her.  On either side of them, Buckbeak's gray wings flapped powerfully, pumping up and down as he rose higher.  Lupin glanced over the hippogriff's wing to see Sirius watching them down below.  

"Pull back on the reins!" he shouted, making the same motion with his hands.

Lupin pulled back and Buckbeak steadied himself.  He checked down beneath him again, but Sirius was now just a speck on the ground.  The air around them was much colder and Mary shivered.  "Um, let's go down lower," Lupin advised, steering Buckbeak down and toward the beach.

Now that his flying was more stable, Lupin took this time to observe their surroundings.  The sky enveloped them in inky blackness and cold.  Above, the silvery-white glow of the moon fell upon them, creating sheen off Buckbeak's gray coat.  Below, the black waves pounded against the shore.  Moonlight danced across the ocean surface, infusing the water with life.

As they flew, Lupin was amazed that he didn't feel as cold was he was before.  With Buckbeak's warm fur and soft feathers, the winter air didn't affect them as much as he thought.  The hippogriff's presence was as part of the ride as the scenery.  His constant beating of his giant wings echoed through the still night; the rhythm of his body was like the rocking of a ship.  Occasionally, those beautiful wings would brush up against them ever so slightly.  The sensation was like being nudged by a stone hand gloved in velvet.

Mary was silent for the entire ride.  She was in raptures, breathing slowly and staring all around.  Her small, gloved hands clung to the rope and Buckbeak's plumage, but she wasn't plagued with the fear of falling.  Lupin put the back of his hand against her cheek; it felt flushed and warm.  "Are you enjoying this?" he asked.

She finally spoke in an awed whisper.  "We're- we're really flying," she said, her voice at the height of child wonder.  She didn't speak after that.  But her comfortable form leaning against him said it all.      

During this nocturnal sojourn, Lupin felt completely content; he was always happy when she was.  And then he thought of the day after the full moon.  When she became better, they could leave this town for good.  With Buckbeak, they could go anywhere.  Sirius once told him how he and Buckbeak had fled all the way to the jungles of Africa.  Certainly not Africa, but they could go somewhere.  They could hide out together.  Perhaps leave for the mountains of Scotland so they could keep an eye on Harry.  But, nevertheless, Lupin decided that he wanted to sever all chances of contact with the Grisham family.  He wanted to forget them, and hoped... just a little.... that Mary would forget them too.    

It was the first selfish thought he had in a long time.

Chapter 35

The next day, Lupin woke up to her weakly calling his name.

"Remmy..."

He stirred in bed and lifted his head from the covers.  The house was large enough for all of them to have a separate bedroom, even though Lupin initially slept on the floor by Mary's bedside.  Sirius had since then persuaded him to stop that practice.  Now Lupin left his bedroom and entered hers.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I...I... just feel a little hot." she said softly.

He put a hand to her forehead.  "My God, you're burning up!"  A clichéd remark, but very true.  He took a pitcher and a washcloth from the bed stand and made a wet compress to put on her forehead.  Then, instinctively, he went through the medical supplies her bought before.  Much of it was used up, but there was still some children's aspirin.  He had the instructions memorized by now, and knew that the medicine took care of fevers as well.

"Swallow this," he offered.

Mary groaned - she couldn't lift her head from the pillow.  So instead, Lupin poured the medicine down into her mouth and she swallowed.    "Can... can you take the blanket off?" she asked.

How did that saying go?  Starve a cold and sweat a fever?  Or was it the other way around?  Claire would know something about this... Lupin pushed the thought away.  He couldn't get his hands on the_ Daily Prophet_ for weeks, though he had read the one Sirius had shown him when they first met.  However, he suspected that his werewolf acquaintances from the Safehouse weren't doing well.  But he couldn't think about them, not now.

"Okay," he said.  "I have to check up on your leg anyhow."  He loosened the blanket and revealed her wounded leg.   The wound had grown worse.  Now it was more than puffy and red, but the whole calf had actually swollen up.  Little ribbons of purple and dark red outlined the small capillaries around the injury.  He didn't know exactly what this meant, but he knew it wasn't good.

"Does it-" he started, brushing his finger against the top of her leg.

Mary cried out.  "Don't touch it!" she gasped.  "Just don't touch it!"

"Okay, I won't."  Lupin shied his hands away from the spot.  This really was bad.  

Mary groaned again, tossing her head on the pillow.  Her hair was soaking wet already, the beads of sweat rolling off her forehead.  

"What's going on?"  Sirius came into the room, scratching the back of his head.  He yawned and scratched, brushing a hand through his hair.  Lupin checked the bedside digital clock; it was twenty past eight.

"She developed a fever," he said.  Moving away from the bed, he added in a whisper, "Her leg has become infected as well."

A shadow crossed his friend's face.  "Infected?  How bad is it?"

"Extremely."  Lupin gestured to the exposed limb.  "Mary," he addressed again, "where does it hurt exactly?"

"My head hurts..." she murmured, her eyes half-closed.  Her breathing was labored; she could barely get the words out.

"Yes, that's because of the fever..." Lupin put a hand to on knee.  "Does-"

"Yes...!" The answer was a grating moan of agony.

"All right..." Lupin bit his lower lip, afraid to touch her again.

"It.... it hurts all along my side," she whispered.  Tears were dripping down her face.  "I...I want to see Mama..." she whimpered.

A stab to his heart.  Lupin flinched visibly, then smoothed over his reaction.  "Shhhh..." he comforted, brushing her sweaty bangs off her forehead.  "It'll all be better soon.  Do you want something cold to drink?"

"I don't want anything to drink.  I want to see Mama and Papa."

"I'll... I'll get some ice..." Lupin said gently, and then pulled Sirius out of the room with him.  He shut the door behind them so she wouldn't overhear.  "Sirius, do you have any idea what we need?"

"I do," Sirius replied in a loud whisper.  "We have to take her to the hospital.  We have no other choice-"

"Don't bring that up again!" Lupin replied harshly.  He entered his bedroom to rummage through his briefcase.  "I have half an hour left in this-" He lifted up the old canteen with the remains of the Polyjuice Potion out of the case.  There used to be ninety minutes left, but he used up an hour last week on another shopping excursion.  He stared down at the bottle.  Thirty minutes was not a very long time; he'd have to use this wisely.

"But where are you going to go?" Sirius questioned.

"Starve a cold and sweat a fever," Lupin told him confidently.  "You stay by Mary and keep her warm.  Try to make her drink some water."  He threw off his robes and grabbed his Muggle clothes.

"If you think you can bring a doctor here, you're crazy," Sirius said.  "Things don't work like that nowadays.  All of the _doctors_ are at the _hospitals_."

"If I can find the medicine, we'll be fine," Lupin reasoned.  "Muggles have medicines for everything, just like how we have spells for everything."  Now dressed, he left the room, tucking the canteen into his jacket pocket.

"I can't believe this," Sirius muttered.  "And you're suppose to be the sensible one!"  He went after him down the stairs. "She doesn't need pills; she needs a surgeon to take that hunk of steel out of her leg!"

"And we're not in that position to get her that surgeon now, are we, Sirius?"  

"Craw?"  Buckbeak stuck his head out of the parlor doorframe, looking at them curiously.  

"Mary's sick," Sirius explained.

Lupin headed out the door.  "Remember to make her drink something!" he called over his shoulder.

The pale winter sun was rising over the horizon, greeting the world with its sterile haze.  Lupin took to the sidewalks, avoiding the patches of ice and slush.  He had to find a way to get Mary some medicine.  God, he didn't even know what kind she needed.  What _did_ Muggles use for infections?  

And even if he could find out what kind of medicine he would need, where would he get it?  Lupin had a horrible feeling that no Muggle drugstore would have anything for something this serious.  But where else can he go?  Hospitals were something he didn't have in mind when coming to Brighton.  Did this city even have its own hospital?  If he was desperate - and indeed he was quite close - he could take her to the Muggle ER.  Surely he could forge something that would hold until Mary got better.  He was afraid to risk that.  Okay, so if he did take her into the hospital, how was he going to get her out?  It was only three days until the full moon - what if she changed while recuperating?  God knows how much havoc could occur, with so many injured people there.  Easy prey.  So there was one other option...

Lupin sighed.  He vowed not to meet up with him again, but now he had no choice.  Maybe, if he played on Kevin's emotions right, he could get Kevin to buy the medicine for him.  He knew "Toby" already, and the man had the sympathetic heart and the Muggle knowledge... _My sister is sick, and you have to help her, Reverend Grisham!_   Lupin shook his head.  He sounded like a two-faced con artist.  And besides, Toby didn't know Kevin was a minister.  Start again....

_I have to tell you the truth.  I-I don't have any parents... They died a long time ago.... Me and my sister, we ran away from the children's home... and now she's really sick... You have to help us, Mr. Grisham..._

He turned the corner with his head bowed low, quickening his pace.  

***

_Ding-dong._

Kevin looked away from his book and pushed his glasses up.  Who was that?

_Ding-dong._

"Janet, are you going to get that?" he called, and then remembered that she was going out to do some early-morning Christmas shopping.  He sighed and shut the book, making his way downstairs with it tucked under his arm.  But really, who would visit them at this time?  The paperboy?  He ran back for his wallet, in case he had to pay for anything, and then came to the front door.

He checked through the peephole in the door.  A total stranger dressed in a suit.  How odd.

Kevin opened the door.  "Hello," he said.  "What can I do for you?"

The man was middle age, maybe a bit older.  Gray hairs grew at his temples and his lined face was square and gruff, with a deep jaw line and a blunt nose.  He had the build of an American football player and the stance of a soldier.  The pinstriped suit he was wearing completely contrasted with his physique.

This tough-looking man broke into a friendly grin.  "Hello," he said, taking Kevin's hand.  "I'm not sure if you know me.  I'm J.C. Hammond."

***

Lupin watched aghast as Kevin let Croaker inside.  He stayed in his place hiding behind a neighbor's tall picket fence.  The Polyjuice Potion canteen was still in his hand, the measured amount poured into the cap.  Lupin was about to become Toby when he saw a black car drive up to the house from the opposite direction.  Wanting to have Kevin alone when he came in, he planned to wait until this visitor left.  Yet now he knew who this man was and an ominous feeling came over him.

Now why would Croaker come here??  Lupin didn't question how he got the address - Unspeakables have their ways - but the officer's motives were a mystery.  Surely, he wasn't here as part of the Havenshire case, was he?  Did he know that Lupin was in town?  But why would be talk to the Reverend about any of this?  Did Croaker suspect that he knew something?  _Did_ Kevin know something Lupin wasn't aware of?

All these thoughts raced through his mind as he watched the house helplessly.

***

"I'm glad to finally meet you, Mr. Hammond."  Kevin seated himself down on the living room couch.  "I had been trying to contact you for weeks."

"You have?  I never knew," Croaker said artfully.  He took a seat down on one of the armchairs and adjusted the lapels of his jacket.  "I'm terribly sorry that I couldn't make it to your daughter's funeral.  I had urgent business overseas."

"Some things we just can't control."  He gave a wan smile.  "Do you want anything to eat?  Or some tea, perhaps?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine."

Kevin sat back in his seat.  "It's quite unexpected for you to be here.  I'm afraid my wife isn't around to meet you..."

"Such a shame.  I hoped to catch you both."  Croaker leaned forward, elbows on his knees.  "How are enjoying your stay here?"

"Fine actually.  Since it's the holiday season, my wife has been really in and out..." Kevin trailed off.

"I'm truly sorry about your daughter."  Croaker tried to look sympathetic and only half succeeded.  "It must be hard during this season.  To cope with a death of a loved one is one of the most difficult things to go through.  I give you my most heartfelt condolences..."

Kevin didn't reply to that.  In truth, it sounded like something written off a Hallmark card.

"It is my fault," Croaker added.  "I should have kept Fenir locked up more.  He ran off while I was away, and I didn't know..."

"Yes, I heard the explanation before...." He stared down at his hands.

"All right then," Croaker started brightly, ignoring the other man's discomfort.  "Now, um, Father, I have some questions to ask."

He looked up again, trying to be more cheerful.  "Yes?"

"Well," he gave a slight chuckle, "I have heard some odd things.  I don't want to offend you or anything, but there's this rumor going on about how you think my pet was a werewolf...?" He raised a hand in doubtful gesture.

"Word got that far?"  Kevin asked, sadness changing to embarrassment.  "I thought that this was only town gossip..."

"Oh, Brighton is a large city," Croaker replied.  "I was planning to visit you personally, anyhow.  I just stumbled up that random bit of information."  Inwardly, he was laughing.  Muggles can be so easy to play around with!  Personally, Croaker only came down here to see how he messed up.  The Unspeakable took pride in his work, and to have a Muggle uncover something he masked... Well, he just had to find out how the Muggle did it.  _He must be a clever one_, Croaker thought to himself.  Clever Muggles were few and far between.   The ones he encountered he had dealt with quickly; intelligence can be dangerous.

The pseudonym J.C. Hammond was one he had made up himself and used to help cover up the origins of the wolf.  Wild wolves were extinct in the United Kingdom, and so some excuse to where that rabid wolf came from had to be found.  Since there were no nearby zoos to place the blame on, Croaker had too use the "wolf pet gone rabid" excuse.  A bit of a stretch, but it still worked.  Even if rabies had been eradicated from England, the Muggle mindset would accept anything except magic.  He used the rabies before several years ago when a wolf in Northern Ireland mauled someone.  Say a rabid squirrel must have carried it over from the continent, and then infected the wolf.  Those Irish fools swallowed it like candy.

"I'm sure you think it's a foolish idea like everyone else..." Kevin fumbled.

"Actually, I think it's very intriguing."

He was stunned.  "You do?"

"Definitely.  I mean it's not everyday that someone accuses your pet of being a mythological beast.  Seriously, I would like to see how you came to this assumption."

Kevin was still taken back by the man's acceptance.  "Mr. Hammond, even if you truly were interested... You might think it's only a foolish joke."  He cast his eyes down.  "I don't think I can show anyone this information unless they truly believed.  I have faced many skeptics since that article came out..."

Croaker was slightly miffed.  This Muggle wasn't going to show him, was he?  Well, that's what _he_ thought.  "Really?"  He gave another toothy smile, similar to one a dragon gives to its prey before gobbling it up.  "How do you know I'm not a skeptic?" he inquired politely.

***

Lupin began to pace alongside the fence.  How long were they going to take?  What was Croaker doing in there?  For some reason, Lupin didn't trust him.  Before, he would have had faith in the Ministry and its departments, but after the treatment of the Safehouse residents and the treatment he received from Croaker himself, Lupin had his doubts.  He recalled Jarohnen's great distrust of wizard law and saw the actual logic of it.

Well, he couldn't trust Croaker, but that didn't mean that his intentions were malevolent towards the Kevin.  But why would Croaker want to meet him?  Surely the Muggle wasn't in danger of discovering the wizard world.  Lupin could admit that the Department of Mysteries had done a pretty decent job at covering it all up.  

However, the doubt still lingered.  He had to protect Kevin from Croaker.  Maybe it was because Lupin disliked Croaker, maybe it was because he disliked the Ministry, and maybe it was because Lupin knew he himself was to blame for this whole situation.  He noticed a hefty rock about as big as his fist on the edge of the sidewalk.  He picked it up.  Hmmmm...it would throw far.  Tossing this stone in one hand, he faced the ranch house.

***

_Crash!_

"What the-"

"Good Lord-"

The two men sprang to their feet as a stone smashed through the living room window.  Pieces of glass flew everywhere.  The stone rolled across the carpet and stopped at Croaker's feet.  Kevin went to the broken window and pulled back the curtain.  "Who in the world is that?" he asked incredulously.

Croaker came to the window as well.  Lupin was standing in the middle of the street, arms crossed, and foot tapping against the pavement.  Almost lazily, he waved.

Instantly, Croaker felt his blood begin to boil.  What the hell was that wolf doing here?!  He and Kevin exchanged glances.  "I advise that you don't call the police about this," he said.

"But why not?"  Kevin cried.  "That stranger just purposely broke my front window.  He's- he's still standing there!  I can't believe it!"

"I'll replace the window," Croaker reassured him, becoming impatient.  He had some Muggle money on hand; he always did when he went undercover.  This he took out of his back pocket and shoved into Kevin's hands.

"Why, thank you!"  Kevin gasped.  Things were moving way too fast for him.  "But what are you mean not call the police?  This is crazy!"

"He's a personal enemy," Croaker growled.  He wanted frantically to get out of this house and onto the street.  Outside, Lupin was already turning heel and slowly walking away.  Croaker's temperature rose up a few notches.  The wolf!  How dare act he way in front of _him_??  That beast won't get away with that!

Kevin was still stuttering helplessly.  "Your enemy?" he said.  "How did he find you here?  You can't go after him by yourself, Mr. Hammond-"

"Don't worry about me, Father," he growled.  This was his chance to capture Lupin himself!  And it was slipping away!  He climbed out of the window and landed on the brown front lawn.  "I'll get back to you!"  With that, he started running.  Kevin could only gape at him dumbly, the folded bills still in his hand.

***

One... two... three...

Lupin was slowly counting his steps as he walked away.  Croaker had to go after him now, correct?  

...four... five... six...

He heard the crush of glass was Croaker swung himself out the window.

...seven... eight...

Croaker was on the road, sprinting to catch up.  His footfalls were right behind him.

Lupin checked over his shoulder.  Croaker leapt at him.  Now it was time to run.

He darted toward the fence, jumping up.  His hand caught the top edge.  Croaker grabbed his foot and tried pulling him down.  Lupin launched a kick to his face and knocked him off.  Then, frantically, he pulled himself over.

Once over, Lupin lost his grip and fell.  Unfortunately, there was a patio set to break his fall.  He landed with a _thump!_ on the glass round table, with his jacket getting caught in the mounted umbrella.  He rolled off - the corner of the jacket tore - and landed on the ground.

Croaker was making his way over the fence with a panther's grace.  He jumped onto the edge and swung his legs over.  From the ground, Lupin picked up a plastic patio chair and flung it.  This caught Croaker off-balance; he slipped.  Lupin scrambled to his feet and ran across the back yard.  His back hurt from the fall; he gritted his teeth and fought back the pain.  He jumped the other fence much quicker the second time around, landing in another stranger's yard.  The back door was open and a string of Christmas lights were on the deck - Muggle decoration.  He checked behind him.  Croaker wasn't there.

"_Stupefy!_"  

An invisible force grazed his leg and hit the ground beside him.  He fell on his side, his leg going numb.  Croaker stood on the other side of the yard, wand arm raised.

Damn.

The Stupefy Spell only worked when the target was hit directly.  If not, it only caused temporary penalization.  Lucky him.  Lupin caught sight of the wand.  If he could steal that, he could remove the bullet from Mary's leg and seal the wound.  Lupin closed his eyes, going limp.  Playing dead was not only a dog's specialty.  

Croaker walked over, a grim smile in his face.  He kicked the werewolf onto his back, then grabbed the front of his jacket.

Perfect.  Lupin snapped open his eyes and threw a Croaker a right to the nose.

"Argh!"  Croaker clutched at his face.  Lupin made a grab his wand.  Croaker gave a cry and kicked Lupin square in the chest.  

"Ugh!"  The breath knocked out of him, Lupin's chest and back pushed back, exploding with pain.  He wheezed loudly, holding on to Croaker's wand - Croaker wrenched him away, but Lupin snatched his tie - the wand was being pulled between them -  Croaker kicked out at Lupin's legs - Lupin slipped - his hand was still on Croaker's tie - it tightened and he choked...

Croaker tried to shove Lupin away with his free hand - Lupin dodged and turned, trying to pull the wand from Croaker's grasp - the wand twisted in Croaker's hand as it was jerked in a different direction - Croaker grabbed at the wand with both hands - Lupin kicked out and tripped _him_-

Croaker fell.  Lupin was still standing, pulling on his tie with one hand and his wand with the other - Croaker spluttered, clinging to his wand for dear life - Lupin's feet were sliding on the muddy lawn - Croaker tugged - Lupin weakened, starting to fall - the wand was beginning to splinter under the stress - Lupin fell at an angle away from Croaker, both still holding on to the wand -

_Snap!_

He got it!  Lupin looked down to see only a broken stick with the dragon heartstring dangling from the end.  Not good.

Croaker was on the ground, staring at his half as well.  He threw it away and spat, "You-!"  Jumping to his feet, he charged at him again.

Lupin tried to run.  He limped heavily for two steps before Croaker pushed him down again.  Lupin fell flat on his face.  He rolled over - Croaker punched.  The blow hit him to the jaw - Lupin heard an unpleasant _crack! _- he couldn't feel his jaw.  A warm, metallic substance was in his mouth.  He put his fingers to his lip.  Red blood flowed - his blood.  

Lupin punched him in the chest – it was like hitting a brick wall – Croaker aimed another throw at his jaw – it made contact with his chin – Lupin's groaned, but he kneed Croaker between the legs and rammed his fist into his neck at the same time-  

"Oof!"

Lupin scrambled to his feet before Croaker could give another throw.  Damn, he was strong!  The pain from his jaw made his eyes swim - he stumbled back, trying to take a fighting stance -

Croaker was facing him as well, fists clenched and eyes narrowed.  He didn't look injured at all.  Lupin hadn't had a chance to do much damage.  Even though the Unspeakable was older than him, he was definitely in better shape.  If they were to fight again, Lupin would lose hands down.

The two slowly began to circle each other.  Croaker was prepped; Lupin was ready to tumble.  He could hear Croaker chuckling lowly under his breath.  Lupin felt his muscles tense up and his breath shorten.  His good leg felt like it was rooted to the ground; the other was like a dead limb.  He had no other choice but to fight.  Lupin saw the open back door out of the corner of his eye.  Maybe he didn't have to...

Croaker had his eye on him.  Nowhere to go.  They were still circling each other.  Suddenly, Lupin raced to the back sliding door and dived in.  Croaker cursed and followed in mad pursuit.

***

Inside, Croaker ran into the front foyer, looking around.  Where did that wolf go?  He ran through the empty room and made his way to the kitchen.  A door leading off the kitchen was wide open.  Below lay the basement.  Poor choice, but worth a shot.  He took the staircase down.

The basement was damp and poorly lighted, stacked with boxes.  In the far corner was a washer/dryer set.  Beyond that was nothing but more boxes and shadows.  In the dimness, he saw a lurking figure.

"Halt!" he cried.  He didn't have his wand - damn that wolf for breaking it - but he did have his fists and his authority.  "You have no where to go, wolf!  Come out right now!"

The person turned around, startled.  Stepping into the staircase light, he saw that it wasn't Lupin, but an old lady carrying an extension cord.

"Intruder!" she gasped, dropping the cord.

"Oh, my apologies, ma'am," Croaker flubbed.  "I'll, just, uh... leave now."  He raced back up the stairs, leaving the poor lady speechless.

Croaker came back into the stranger's kitchen and went into the hallway.  He had to be here right?  Damn!  Lupin couldn't have cut through the house so quickly..!

He came upon the parlor room of the house.  A young redhead was sitting in a rocking chair, reading a book.  "Hey, who are you?" he cried out.

The Unspeakable stumbled back, affronted the second time.  If he only had his wand-!  "Excuse me," he said, leaving the house at top speed.

When Croaker left, the man froze in his seat for a few moments.  Then he got up, put the book down and limped through the back door.  Once outside, Lupin heaved a great sigh of relief, wiping Toby's bangs from his face.

***

"Yes, Rachel, I know, it is very unusual," Kevin spoke into the cordless phone.  He was standing in the middle of the living room, with a vacuum in his hand.  The window was temporarily covered with the shade tapped down to the sill.  However, the cold still seeped through.  Kevin was wearing his coat as he cleaned up.  

"Just smashed the window," he was telling his sister.  "Yes, no reason at all, I think.  And Mr. Hammond just got up and left... Actually, he gave me the money to fix it.... Quite amazing, really... You can have your husband install a new pane of glass when he gets home... I'm fine... Janet's coming back in a couple hours anyhow..." He laughed.  "I don't think your windows will be assaulted a second time, Rach.  Okay, see you."

He hung up the phone and began rolling up the vacuum cord.  This had been a very strange morning.  

_Ding-dong._

Not again.

Kevin wondered whether he should answer the door.  Well, maybe it was Mr. Hammond.  Or the police.  He was sure if he didn't call them, a neighbor would.

For the second time, he opened the door.  "Hello?" 

A familiar young man stood on the doorstep, wringing his hands.

"Toby?"  Kevin exclaimed.  "What are you doing here?"

"Hi..." Toby looked around uncomfortably.  He seemed to regret being there.  "I'm-I'm sorry, I shouldn't bother you like this-" Toby turned away from the door.

What _was_ going on this morning?  "Oh, uh, don't be.  Sorry for being rude there."  Kevin stepped out onto the doorstep.  He didn't think it was for the best to invite a second person in.  

Toby was staring at the broken window.  "Whoa," he commented.  "What happened there?"

"Very bizarre actually," Kevin scratched the back of his head.  "Some total stranger just smashed that in with a rock barely an hour ago."

"That's heavy damage," Toby said, concerned.  He leaned over to get a better look.  "I didn't know it was that bad..."  

"What did you say?"

"Uh, nothing."  Toby straightened up, getting back to topic.  "Look, I know this... This may sound kind of weird but..." He hesitated.  "I need your help."

"My help?  Why?"

"It's... It's hard for me to explain..." Toby bit his lower lip.  "I've been lying to you, Mr. Grisham," he suddenly blurted out.

"Lying?" Kevin wrinkled his brow.  "What do you mean?"

"It's a long story..." Toby sat down on the front steps.  Kevin joined him.  "First of all, I'm not going to be nineteen, like I told you, sir.  I'm... I'm just sixteen.  My birthday was last month.  Look... my parents died three years ago..."

He was taken back.  "Oh, I'm terribly sorry..."

"Um, thank you," Toby brushed it off.  "Well, me and my sister Lizzie... We've been living as wards of the state.  Lizzie, she was only four when it happened...  I took care of her when we were all alone, sir. I made sure she was happy and safe and when she missed our parents... I'd just sit there and hold her...." Toby wouldn't stop wringing his hands, he was that nervous.  "Hey, I'm not beating the system or anything.  They took care of us.  Fed us, kept us clean and clothed and stuff.  There's an emptiness inside though... I guess you would only understand if you didn't have a mum and dad..."

Kevin listened patiently.  "Go on," he said, touched by parental concern.__

He went on, "Well, a couple months ago, this family was looking to adopt.  They met Lizzie and..." he trailed off momentarily, "they thought she was the greatest kid they ever saw," he murmured.  "They wanted to adopt her... but they didn't want me.  There's a saying we kids at the children's home have: once you hit thirteen, no one really wants you anymore."

Kevin didn't know how to respond.  

"I wanted Lizzie to be happy, to have a real family, but..." Toby looked away.  "I know it was really selfish of me to think, but I didn't want us to be separated.  Then... I'd be all alone...  So, we ran away.  We came here because we thought that the police would never find us."  Toby sighed.  "And now, Lizzie's really sick.  She got this infection... It's really bad...."

Seeing a break in his story, Kevin ventured, "Do you need a ride to the hospital?"

"No!" Toby exclaimed, looking alarmed.  He quickly recovered.  "I mean, we can't have the police find us."  

"Toby," Kevin said in a paternal voice.  "I'm only giving you advice, but I think you have to step back and take a good look at the situation at hand."

"Okay," he agreed.

"How is your sister's condition?"

"She has a fever... but I already have something for that.  Um.... she also has a bad infection too on her leg... She got a deep cut about a week ago and it got all red and swollen..."

"Ah."  Kevin nodded.  "Now, Toby, I'd be more than willing to help, but I can only do so much.  You can get better help at a hospital."

Toby turned to look at him, a sense of urgency growing on his face.  "But- but-"

"There might be some risks you have to take," Kevin advised.  "But which is more important to you: hiding from the police or your sister's health?"

The young man was silent for a long time, contemplating.  Finally, he said in an almost forceful voice, "You don't understand.  I _cannot_ take her to the hospital, sir.  I care for my sister very much, but I can't afford to."

Kevin was disappointed with his decision.  "If that's what you think," he replied.  "I can't make these choices for you.  I'll get you some antibiotics if that's what you want, but if your sister only gets worse, you have to get her some professional medical attention." 

"Antibiotics?"  Toby said.  "Is that what it's called?"

"Penicillin," he verified.  "How much does your sister weigh?  Do you know?"  Kevin had no qualms with buying medicine for this young man.  Despite the fact they were almost strangers, Toby appealed to him as an honest young man who was telling the truth.  Anyway, he wasn't asking for suspicious drugs such as narcotics or steroids.  An antibiotics junkie was just too absurd to think about.

"Not more than 27 kilos, I think."  Toby took Kevin's hands. "Thank you so much.  I swear, you don't what you've just done for me."

"Oh, I can take a guess," Kevin smiled.  "Anything to help."  

"How long would it take?"

"I could order some from the druggist.  Only an hour, I think."

"Thank you, Mr. Grisham, thank you!"  Toby was effusive.  He pumped Kevin's hand up and down.  "I'll stop by in two hours," he said.  

"Your welcome," Kevin replied.  "I just want to have a final word here."  

Toby calmed down and paid attention.  

He gave him a serious look.  "I know that you might think the world is your enemy," he said.  "But that can't be necessarily true all the time.  People will be on your side in places where you least expect them.  When you realize that, you'll know that sometimes, when you give in, it's for your benefit, not theirs."  He also added, "If you need any help with your sister later, don't hesitate to ask."  He hinted that if he needed a ride to the hospital of course.

Toby agreed wholeheartedly, but Kevin wasn't sure he actually listened.  "Yeah, I will, promise."  He then checked his watch.  "Geez!  I have to go now," he said hurriedly.  "Be back here in a couple hours!"  He got up to his feet.  "Thank you again.  Lizzie'll love you for it."  He then turned and ran down the street.

"Okay then.  See you."  As Kevin raised a hand in farewell, he suddenly noticed something.  Toby wore the exact same jacket as that stranger who broke the living room window.

***

Lupin left in the opposite direction that he came in, passing by a mailbox with the house number and family name - Ford.  When he was gone from sight, he paused to take a breath, running a hand through his hair.  He rubbed his jaw; it still hurt, but it wasn't broken, thank goodness.  It had swollen up a bit, yet he didn't think it was noticeable.  

He spat on the ground; it was tinged pink with blood.  At the action his face momentarily contorted in pain, then relaxed.  It'll heal in a couple days... 

Sirius had asked when he got back to Her Majesty how he got his face half-beaten in.  Lupin had taken some aspirin and a clean shirt before he left again, without saying a word.  He sighed and wiped his brow, wet with sweat that froze in the chill morning air.  He could explain to Sirius about Croaker and Mary's parents later.

He began walking quickly back to the house, a sinking feeling growing in his stomach.  And no, it was not from his injury.  He succeeded in duping that poor man into buying medicine for his own daughter.  Overall, this was one of the most convincing acts Lupin ever pulled: runaways from a foster home, now that was pure genius.  He should be proud of himself - he did it for a good cause - but somehow, he wasn't.  For some reason, there was something very wrong about the whole thing.  Yet he couldn't quite put his finger on why....

Chapter 36

Nobility breeds idiocy.  It was all in the bloodline.  If a family marries their cousins for several generations in a row, something regrettable was bound to happen.  At least, that's what Claire decided to herself.

Take, for instance, her clan.  There were five extended branches, with one ruling branch and four subordinate ones.  These subordinate clans were appointed high-flown titles like "knight" and "lord" and dedicated their loyalty to the ruling branch in exchange for a share in riches, protection, and title.  If one wanted to be truly part of the clan and share the de Chien-Loup name, they had to marry into it, something that was done quite often.  A common theme in aristocracy.  This would have been very convenient if the year was still 1412.  However, today's result would be having blood or marriage relatives linked to almost every prestigious European clan who dated back to the Middle Ages.  And having all of their ailments.

To state an example, her brother Bernard had blood from a purblind, three hemophiliacs, two LOCDs, and one albino.  Amazing to think that from this genetic mix just the albinism won out.  Claire had LOCD.  Her little brother Caleb was the most normal - he was colorblind.  

A running joke in the family was that Bernard's heir would be born an Englishman.

Mental characteristics like insight must be a genetic trait as well.  One perfect exhibit of hereditary dysfunctions would be the past fortnight with Claire's "could-you-get-me-out-of-jail" business.  Bernard, being the responsible older brother he was, flew over on the next plane to England.  Also Bernard, being the forgetful person he was, left his registered werewolf passport back in Nice.  At British wizard customs (patrols covered all Muggle areas of transportation) he was accused of illegally trying to cross the Channel into England, and locked up in the wizard jail for two nights before being shipped back to France.  

Second time around, he met with whom he described to Claire later as, "a courteous, old gentleman wolf" at the London airport.  This wolf, which had a very pitiful and grievous story about family misfortunes, said that he had a RMC visa which permitted him to go back to his Spanish homeland, but he lacked the monetary funds for the journey.  Bernard, being the kind-hearted person he was, offered to pay for his ticket.  Once paid, the man slipped from sight.  However, twenty minutes later, Bernard was called in by wizard customs for another time and accused of trying to smuggle werewolves out of the country without the proper travel papers.  This "courteous, old gentleman wolf" had a forged visa, which, he claimed, Bernard sold to him.  Within two hours of returning to England, he was arrested again, jailed for a week, given a warning, and then deported.  

His third (and last) visit to England was a success.  This time, he actually made it out of the airport.  Thus, he proceeded to go to the Ministry headquarters in London and tell Claire about his misadventures.  The one good thing he managed was to provide the help Claire needed to avoid facing charges.  Their third cousin, an employee at the Department for the Regulation of Non-Wizard, Part-Human Creatures who had managed to stay in England and establish prolonged contact with her, made a compromise with the officials at the RMC.  She would not be punished for her crimes and instead have her British citizenship revoked and be sent back to France.  Claire didn't like the idea, but it was better than being tried for illegal magic practice and sent to the Sentient Magical Creatures Penitentiary a.k.a "The Kennel."  This prison was located on the same island as Azkaban, and designed to hold magical creature criminals who were intelligent enough to know and obey the laws.  Its common nickname derived from the fact that the majority of creatures who were sent there were werewolves.  

It was then that the authorities called in Bernard for the third time.  It wasn't the British wizard customs, however.  It was the Taxation Division in France.  Apparently, they never received Bernard's tax payments.

He was deported to France under their jurisdiction on December 14, yesterday afternoon.  Unless that poor, misguided owl with Bernard's payments was found soon, he would be tried with tax evasion.  Another headline in the werewolf community, another smear upon the already dirtied family name.

Maybe it was Bernard's lack of common sense that he didn't wait until he was sure his taxes got through.  Maybe it was Claire's lack of foresight that she persuaded her brother to come.  As it was stated before, insight, or its deficiency, must be a genetic trait.

And yet, Claire's conclusion was proven: with alpha wolves like Bernard hanging around, nobility can, and does, breed idiocy.  No offense to her brother.  She loved him, really.

Those were the basics of her train of thought as she was left to brood in her cell. Why she wasn't on her way back home was a matter of political and legal red tape her cousin was taking care of.  

Her stay in jail, besides that unmentionable interrogation, was relatively tolerable.  Parsons rarely confronted her after that; when they did meet, it was always in the company of his partner Agent Yoshimoro.  Parsons acted exactly as he did beforehand - that is, like the stone-faced prick she was familiar with.  Claire sometimes wondered if Parsons was ever ashamed of what he attempted to do.  Somehow, she doubted it.  The attempted rape was like a dark secret between them that neither wanted to talk about.  It was an incident that affected one's rigid standards and the other's strong-willed pride.  Parsons would never admit that he wanted to ravage a beast; Claire would never admit that she couldn't defend herself in an attack.  And so the issue remained unresolved and probably never will be.

How the others fared she was more or less aware.  Occasionally, she would ask Agent Yoshimoro about Jarohnen.  The answer would come in the form of a hesitant look, then the straightforward information.  Jarohnen had been immediately arraigned and tried as a werewolf before the Council of Magical Law.  The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures found him guilty of five counts of first-degree murder with an illegal weapon and sentenced him to a lifetime in The Kennel.  The Committee decided not to execute him because of his mental state.

Unusual to say, but after the arrest, Jarohnen transformed into a semi-catatonic.  He could eat, dress himself, and tend to other personal needs, but he had ceased speaking and all other forms of outside communication.  After rising in the morning, he would sit on his cot and stare at the blank wall for hours on end.  At night, he did not move to sleep unless the guards laid him down.  Criminal psychologists assumed that he snapped after murdering the officers and his mind stopped almost all normal functioning.  Pity moved the Committee into not killing an elderly invalid.

The Freedom Hounds had slipped into obscurity.  The Ministry couldn't find any of the wolves ticked off in Jarohnen's interrogation.  Any other street wolves captured and interrogated knew nothing of their whereabouts.  Rumor has it that they escaped to Ireland to hide on the Phelan clan reservation.  Upon asking the Alpha wolf for any information, the RMC officers were driven away with poisoned arrows.  The Phelans were a mystical, isolated society; it was doubtful that they would be concealing secular vagabonds. 

During this period Yoshimoro also had a spell doctor brought in to address Claire's magical condition.  He confirmed that she cursed herself into forgetting something.  Claire wasn't surprised, she had written herself a note telling her that.  "It's poorly done," he observed.  "A Forget Potion, which is almost obsolete today because it can be overridden."  Claire was asked if she wanted the Potion undone. 

She was unsure.  She knew that there was a reason why she magicked herself, and didn't want to disobey her own wishes.  Yet the holes in her memory bothered her to no extent.  Which was better, leaving her safely ignorant or dangerously aware?  However, Yoshimoro, knowing something she didn't, persuaded her that it would do no harm.  So she agreed.

"The effects of the Potion are going to linger for awhile," the spell doctor advised.  "You'll start to recall bits and pieces, so don't be surprised if you suddenly remember one detail - like a smell or color - and nothing else.  You'll regain your complete memory in time."  

At the moment, Claire could recall nothing new in her mind.  Only once did something spark her memory.  This morning Yoshimoro and the guard had been chatting quietly amongst themselves in front of Claire's cell.  Yoshimoro said a name - she forgot at what instance - that made her jump.

"What did you say?" she demanded.  Both turned to her, yet Claire didn't realize her rudeness.  

"What?" the MLES officer glanced at her.  

"It's none of your concern," the guard said brusquely.  

Yoshimoro paused.  "Only that Lupin isn't in America.  The MGA can't find him," she added hurriedly.  The guard and her then left, talking of other things.  Claire had her hands wrapped around the cell bars.  She let them go, hesitantly, as she sank back onto her cot.  _Why does that name sound so familiar?_ she had thought.  __

"Madame?"

"Yes?"

Yoshimoro gestured for the guard to open the door.  "Do you realize what today is?"

"It is ze day of ze full moon, is it not?"  Claire was fully aware that the full moon was coming up; a goblet full of Wolfsbane Potion had been appearing in her cell every morning for the past six days.  The potion had to taken for an entire week before the full moon in order for its effects to work.  This morning, however, the final dose was not by her cot when she woke.  She wondered whether someone forgot today.

Yoshimoro nodded.  "Parsons asked me to escort you to a safer area while you're in wolf form."

" 'E did?"  Immediately, a nauseous feeling brewed in her stomach.  Safer area?  Why would he request that?  She swallowed hard.  "Why isn't 'e 'ere now?"

"At the moment, he's finishing up the work with the Ianikit case," she replied shortly.  

Claire nodded unsteadily and clenched her fists.  "So you'll escort me personally?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Will zair be a guard where you are taking me?"

"Yes."  The door slid open.  "There are personnel on duty twenty-four hours a day in the lower confinements."   

"So I won't be alone?"

"No."

"And... and if I need anything?"

Yoshimoro wondered why she was asking so many questions.  "I'm sure the guard on duty would be able to provide anything within reason."

She nodded.  "If Agent Parsons should come to see me, may I request a guard's presence?"

"A guard's presence should naturally be there in the first place."  Yoshimoro eyed her questionably.  "Will that be all?"

Another question.  "Am I to 'ave ze Wolfsbane Potion before moonrise?"

"I'm not sure.... Agent Parsons is in charge of those matters."

"Because if you seen my file, I'm a LOCD," Claire explained unabashedly.  "I would probably need it."

"LOCD?"  Yoshimoro wasn't familiar with the term.

"Lycanthrope Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder," she stated.  "It requires special attention."

"For what?"

"So I do not 'urt myself," she replied practically.  "I 'ad something at 'ome to protect me.  Padded walls."  A grim smile.  

The three of them - Yoshimoro, Claire, and the jail guard - crossed the upper jail block and came to a rusty, ironclad door sealed.  The guard took a heavy, brass key from the pocket and put it in the steel padlock.  A loud _snap_ was heard and he threw over the crossbar and pushed the door open.  Beyond was a dank, stone stairway.  It was mostly clean, but lichen and moss grew between the cracks.  A single bare light bulb hung from the landing, whose light did not reach the end of the steps.  Somewhere in the darkness, something dripped.  The overall impression was that the rest of the Ministry was built during recent times, while below laid the remnants of the original building, hundreds of years old.

"You are taking me down zair?"  Claire inquired gruffly.  She tried to hide the revulsion in her voice.    

"Parsons' orders."  Yoshimoro sounded like she didn't approve either.  "Let's go, Madame."

Leaving the guard behind, the two descended.  Yoshimoro flicked her wand.  "_Lumos._"  The tiny light sparked from the tip, making it possible for them to see where they were going.

Nervousness arrived, combining with the nausea.  Claire continued to question Yoshimoro to keep her from getting sick.  "Prisoners are still kept in ze dungeons?"

Yoshimoro seemed to feel the same way; at least, she kept answering her inquiries.  "In special cases, the lower confinements are used to hold the most dangerous criminals.  They are usually kept here before being taken to Nemesis Courthouse or Azkaban."

"I see..." Claire stared at the cracks that ran along the rough-hewn blocks.  " 'Ow will I get any moonlight zis far below ground?" she pondered to herself.

"There's a grating.  Here we are."  

The staircase ended to reveal the "lower confinements."  It was a small dungeon, with only four rusted doors marking the individual cells.  The dripping sound was replaced by shallow breathing.  Claire wasn't sure where it came from; stonewalls reverberated the sound so that it seemed to come from all sides.  However, the noise must be from one of the cells.  Far above, an iron grating was built into the ceiling, revealing the orange-red sky.  The beginnings of sunset had already commenced.  

Whitewashed walls rose up in a brightly lit corner - a modern room built in this ancient place.  A large window was place on the side facing the dungeon cells, and inside a man was leaning back in his chair, sipping coffee while reading _Wizard's Digest_.  Yoshimoro knocked on the window; the dungeon guard glanced up and exited his room.

"Another one?" he asked.

"Yup," Yoshimoro confirmed.

The dungeon guard took a large key ring from his robe pocket and strode to the leftmost door.  Opening it wide, he said, "There you go, Amy.  See ya later."

"Thanks."  Yoshimoro stepped into the room.  It was dark, with split rays of golden light beaming down from above.  Claire saw why - another grating.  This didn't make sense.  The dungeon was directly beneath the Ministry jail ward, so there couldn't be any path to outside air.  Most likely this was made possible through magic.

Claire stepped into the cell.  This was naturally filthier that the jail cell - damper too.  She brushed her hand along the stone ledge that served as a cot and felt the slime build up against her fingers.  Giving a disgusted, "Ugh!" she wiped her hand on her robes.  "Who will be down wiz ze Wolfsbane Potion?" she asked abruptly.

"I'm not sure.  As I said before, Parsons is to see to that."

He couldn't.  She felt the panic rise in her chest.  "Will you bring it down?" 

"What?"

Claire re-phrased the question.  "Will Parsons bring ze potion down 'imself?"

"Well, I don't know..." Yoshimoro said awkwardly.  "He might send someone to do it for him or he might do it himself.  Your welfare is under his authorization."

She turned to the MLES officer.  "Can you make sure 'e doesn't come down 'ere?" She gave her noble blood all its worth, speaking in the most demanding voice she could muster.

Yoshimoro looked puzzled.  "What?"

"I don't want 'im to deliver ze potion 'imself."  Claire said severely.  "Please make sure it is anyone but 'im."  The request was almost a command.

"Well, I can't control his orders... We're partners, but werewolves aren't under my jurisdiction...." Yoshimoro gave Claire a curious look.  "Do you feel uncomfortable around him?"

She gave a harsh laugh.  "I do not like 'im, but I can tolerate 'im if need be."  

Yoshimoro took that as her cue to leave.  "I'll be here when the door opens tomorrow," she promised.

Claire had seated herself on the stone.  Yoshimoro stood there for a few moments, as if waiting for something.  Finally she gave up and left the room, shutting the door behind her. 

Now by herself, Claire stared up at the iron grating above.  It was far too high for her wolf to jump.  With the heavy walls and iron door, there shouldn't be a problem in making sure her wolf didn't escape.  But these walls, that was the problem.  Claire had a certain protection spell put into her holding room at the Safehouse - a padding spell.  It required the walls to be strong enough to keep the wolf in without hurting her.  The spell had weakened and didn't work as well last moon, but Claire planned to fix it up herself.  Here, the walls were actual rough-cut rocks.  If her wolf acted wildly, it would be very painful.  Well, the Wolfsbane Potion should keep her wolf mind at bay.  She only questioned why she was put down here in the first place, when, if taking the Wolfsbane Potion, she would be just as safe in a jail cell above.  It was Parsons' orders.... She shuddered.  Thank God there was a guard stationed down here.

All the while, the hyperventilating breath had echoed throughout her cell.  It was beginning to annoy her.  Claire slumped against the dungeon wall and sighed.  Quite suddenly, the noise stopped and a voice echoed from the wall.

"Who is there?"

Claire shifted to face the stone.  She knew that voice.  "Jarohnen?"

There was a brief interval for a few seconds, then a response.  "Comrade, what are you doin' here?"  His voice sounded very faint, as if he was calling to her from the bottom of a well.

"I... I don't know...." She was completely bewildered.  He talked?  He - he was still sane?  "Never mind me," she replied.  " 'Ow long 'ave you been locked up 'ere?"

"I dunno.  What's today's date?"  A low chuckle.  "I lost track of time..."

"It's ze fifteenth.  Ze full moon is going to rise in an 'our."  Claire pursed her lips in uncertainty. "You've been down 'ere for almost zree weeks?"

"So?  That long, eh?"  A pause.  "Time flies quickly..."

" 'Ow do you feel?" she asked, concerned. "People 'ave been saying zat... you 'ave lost your mind..."

A loud burst of laughter came from the wall that echoed throughout the dreary dungeon.  "Me?  Lose my mind?  Comrade, I have finally found it!"

"What do you mean?"

"I have been thinkin' deep thoughts.  And it was like a glorious light, the fiery light of an angel's sword...!"

Thinking so deeply he ceased to function?  Claire wasn't sure what to presume.  "What light?"

"Why, the purpose of the werewolf!  I am writin' in my brain, over and over so I would not forget... People must have thought I was crazy, I suppose, because I didn't move around so much... but I was only writin' in my head!"

"Oh..." She began to feel a bit uneasy.

"Listen, now, listen!"  Jarohnen's voice said loudly.  He cleared his throat and started in an orator's tone, "As I sit in this wretched prison, I ponder a question that I have analyzed for many years: where is the rightful place of the non-wizard in magical society?  After many hours of personal examination and thought, I, Jarohnen Ianikit, have come to this conclusion: that the history of all magical society can be summed up in a series of class struggles.

"In parallel to the Muggle universe that we live with, magical history is marked thoroughly by the oppression of one group by another.  In the Muggle world, it is between master and slave, vassal and lord, peasant and royalty, guild master and wanderer.  In the magical world, the division is much more general, but no less oppressive and horrific: the wizards and the non-wizards."  

If she could see his face, there would be an ear-to-ear grin.  "Nice beginnin', hmm?  And I have it all laid out!" he said.  "I can't believe I have never written it all down before! Talkin' isn't enough.  Words last forever while the body is gone!"  He laughed again excitably.

She didn't like how he chatted.  He was fevered and nationalistic as she always knew him, but there was a wild undertone to it.  He spoke too fast and hyperventilated often.  Some street wolves talked like that, but those wolves were beyond her care.  They were the ones who slept in alleyways and urinated in the streets.   

"Yes," she drawled carefully, "zat sounds like a wonderful start."  

"Wizards are the bane of our existence," he continued quickly.  "They say they tame us, but we must tame 'em!  See?  That is my plan, dear comrade.  It is more than just recievin' our rights, but dealin' with the wizard class.  Oh, what is the word..?" He muttered something unintelligible to himself.  "Abridge, abort, abolish... yes.  Abolish 'em!"  Another laugh.

"Um..." Claire cleared her throat, saying nothing.  She didn't want to disagree with him; she feared for his mind.  Her old friend couldn't be going through this.  He was too strong, too practical, too grounded!  Insanity chilled her with its unfamiliarity; it distorted yet preserved her friend. 

"_Perestroika_!" he unexpectedly cried.  "_Svona, orratstvo, ravyenrrtvo!_"

Claire curled up into a little ball on the stone ledge.  Putting her head between her knees, she shivered.  The dungeon temperature was warm, but its atmosphere was alien and cold.

***

"Here you go, sir."  A black witch in RMC uniform handed Parsons the Wolfsbane Potion.  "Do you want me to deliver them as usual?" 

Parsons placed the two smoking goblets on his desk.  "I'll be fine now.  Thank you.  You may go," he said.  The Potions Mistress nodded and left his office.   

Alone, he sat at his desk and stared at the potion-filled chalices.  He should get someone to deliver them.  He usually had the Potions Mistress leave them inside the wolves' cells every morning.  

Tonight, however, he wanted to deliver them himself.

Maybe it was all a matter of control.  Yes, that's it.  He was a man of control.  He prided himself in it.  This is what gained him respect from his peers, from his supervisors, from wizard civilians.  Here was a man, a true professional: unmoved, untouched, and unreachable.  Precision action.  Militant attitude.  An officer one could admire and envy.

And nothing had broken his rigidity.  Until that damned she-wolf.  The savage animal..!  Her coldness and rebelliousness aggravated him.  No one denied him authority!  For when they first met, from that first bitter glance she gave him - she should know better!  He was authority; he was law!  She practically spat in his face and at everything he believed himself to be!  Trashing her office - venting that animal rage, certainly, but she was also defying him.  And how dare she do that!

That single incident he couldn't get rid of in his mind.  The thought would fade out as he pushed it away, but again and again it would return.  He wanted to show her his authority!  That she-wolf - he would teach her respect!

That was what he was thinking when he interrogated her.  When she insulted him and attacked him, he tried to play it down.  After all, she was a wolf, what did he expect but a monster's savagery?  On the other hand, he almost committed that same savagery himself.  He wanted to so badly; it had fermented in his mind for so long.  In this thoughts, in those dreams where he wanted her.  Wanted her screaming....

Parsons got up from his chair and began to pace the room.  He just wanted to teach her a lesson.  But she - yes, that crafty temptress - she tried to manipulate him into bestiality.  She was a werewolf; she was a taunting seductress.  If he had her, it would smear him and leave her gloating over his misery.  Cunning wolf!  Whoring bitch!

She had tried to trick him, but he defied her advances!  That is why he must deliver the Wolfsbane Potion to her.  He had to prove to himself that she couldn't control him.  He will look at her; give her a neutral touch with no consequence.  She will not beguile him another time with her foolhardy disregard to his power.  She will not entice him a second time to break his own moral code!

With renewed determination, he grabbed the goblets and hurried from the room.

***

Jarohnen's Russian babble abruptly stopped at the sound of approaching footsteps.  Claire lifted her head as someone spoke to the dungeon guard.  A pair of footsteps, then the turn of a key - the neighboring door opened.

"Here is your potion, wolf."  It was Parsons.  Claire felt her blood run cold.  She strained her ears to listen.

Silence on Jarohnen's part.  Could he have lapsed back into his catatonic state, ignoring the officer?   Parsons again.  "Wolf, are you listening?"  The sound of something being placed on stone.  A low whisper.  "Make sure he drinks that."  Footsteps walking away.  

Now was her turn.  Claire straightened up, hands folded on her lap, face turned toward the door when it opened.  Parsons stood by himself in the doorway, the dull gray goblet in his hand.  He took a few steps forward.  "The potion, Madame," he said.

She remained on the ledge.  She wanted to cause the least amount of embarrassment.  Just take the goblet and turn away.  What was so hard about that?  But she felt her muscles stiffen up at his presence.  She couldn't move.  Didn't want to.

"Are you going to ignore me as well?" he asked.  

Say something, Claire.  Get a grip on yourself!  But she was solid as a rock, the cowardly fear coming back.  He was going to grab her, he was going to touch her, he was going to force her-

"Madame..." He walked up to her.  Claire dared not shrink back, but the urge was felt like a pulse pounding in her brain.  She wasn't going to let him.  She'll scream, and the guard would come-

Parsons offered it to her again.  "Moonrise is half an hour away," he said.  "Drink up."

She did not even lift a finger toward the goblet.  He stared right back at her.  She could see his breath quicken in his chest, his hand clench the goblet tighter, his steady gaze flickering.  She glowered at him darkly.  He acted the same, the exact same; she couldn't trust him!

"I will not leave until you drink."

"What are you going to do if I don't?" she replied tensely.  "Shove it down my zroat while taking a quick feel?" 

_Crack!_

Metal hit stone as Parsons slammed the goblet against the ledge.  The over-brimming container sloshed some its contents over the side.

"Do not speak that aloud, wolf," he growled.

She stiffened in her seat.  "And why?  You will get into trouble?"

"This is for your own good," he snapped.  "You are my responsibility.  I will wait here until you take the potion."

She eyed him doggedly.  Responsibility?!  What the hell did he mean by that??  Did it mean that he would treat her with respect and dignity?  Did it mean that he would address her like a person of equal status?  Did it mean that he would honor her wishes and her privacy?  No!  She just some animal he had in his care; some wolf that he had to tame.  That's what he meant by responsibility.  

Her fear, uncertainly and rage had risen to their peak.  She had come to a point where she could never reason with him, forever hate him, and never obey a command he said, even if it made sense.  Maybe if he apologized, she would come a fraction closer to forgiveness.  But now was too late.  Just like how murder had molded Jarohnen's mind into a state of loathing, assault forged hers into bull-headed defiance.

"You will wait all night," she said.


	10. Duty of Man

For the disclaimer and other additional notes see part 1.

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Ten: Duty of Man 

By D.M.P.

***

¶ And moreover, because the Preacher was wise, he still taught the people knowledge; yea, he gave good heed, and sought out, _and_ set in order many proverbs.

The Preacher sought to find out acceptable words: and _that which was_ written _was_ upright, _even_ words of truth.

¶ The words of the wise _are_ as goads, and as nails fastened _by_ the masters of assemblies, _which_ are given from one shepherd.

And further, by these, my son, be admonished: of making many books _there is_ no end; and much study _is_ a weariness of the flesh.

¶ Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this _is_ the whole _duty_ of man.

For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether _it be_ good, or whether _it be_ evil.

- Ecclesiastes 12:9-14

***

Chapter 37

The sun was lying low on the horizon as Lupin made his way to the fisherman's abandoned hovel.  In his arms Mary was wrapped in a bed sheet.  Her eyes were closed, but she was shivering.  He held her fiercely to his chest, as if keeping the shadows of death at bay.

Sirius plodded in the sand alongside him.  He looked over at his friend with contemplative solitude.  In the background, the waves tumbled and roared.  The tide was rising, while Lupin felt the first stirrings of the transformation within him.  Werewolves had a deep connection with the sea, for both were controlled by the rising and setting of the moon.    

Fading sunlight settled upon them like a passing mist.  It reflected off the water and bathed the sand golden-red.  It outlined them with light, stretching their shadows across the dunes. The light hit the bundle in his arms, revealing Mary's pallid face and limp blonde hair.  He glanced down at her.  She was like a statue, pale and immobile.

The antibiotics hadn't worked.  Lupin had been too hopeful.  If he caught the symptoms earlier, they might have had a chance.  But the penicillin had failed to lessen the infection or the swelling.  Today, a dreaded stench came from the wound, the foreshadowing smell of decay.  The gangrene had advanced to its final stages.  Mary requested no medicine.  She could no longer feel the pain.

Their footsteps were sluggish, their shoes sliding along the frozen sand.  A wind blew and Sirius wrapped his robes tighter around him.  Lupin plowed through, heedless of his billowing clothing.  He could no longer feel the cold.  

The sun had to set.  The moon had to rise.  For once in his life, he was eager for the full moon to come.  He was praying for it.

The small shack had changed little since their last stay.  The wood was covered with a delicate layer of frost; a loose shutter clapped against the siding with loud _smack! smack!_ sound.  Lupin glanced at Sirius; he came to the flapping shutter and with one strong pull, wrenched the loose board off.  He dropped the broken piece onto the sand, and followed Lupin inside.

Dark black-red stains stretched over the dank, smelly floor.  Her blood.  She received the fatal wound here and now it seemed as if they came to finish her off.  Three steps into the shack, Lupin fell to his knees.  Sirius, concerned, put a hand on his shoulder.  

He broke the quiet.  "It'll work."

Lupin stared up at him mutely.  Sirius, realizing how stupid his words sounded, turned away and settled himself back into a corner.  He wasn't going to make himself a nuisance during the transformation.

Lupin was still on his knees, his back to the open door.  He could feel Mary's cold breath going in and out, in and out.  She hadn't spoken for the last three hours.  She was weakening.  And even if the moon rose in time, even if the transformation occurred... was she strong enough to survive it?  Lupin knew the infection was already going straight to her heart and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

But there was someone who could.  Someone who this little girl believed in.  But he.... He did believe, once.  But was it that long ago?  No, only a couple months.  What had happened since then?  How much had he changed?

In the beginning, he was lost in his own misery.  Then she came. What did he think when he first saw her?  Lupin closed his eyes.  A miracle.  He thought she was a miracle.

And many things had happened since then.  He had realized that the world wasn't comprised of straight good and evil, black and white.  He knew that all along, didn't he, what the world was like?  In this world, there can be no set of rules that everyone must obey in order to achieve salvation; there can be no book that dictates what a man should do.  There are people in this world who steal from others; there are people in this world who provide for others.  The law can be corrupt in its justice.  The only honor upheld is "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."  The only certainly there can be is the certainty of life itself.

Isn't that right?

The floor was creaking.  What was doing that?  He looked up at Sirius, only to see his pale face stare back at him, a ghost in the darkness.  Then he realized that he was the one moving.  Mary was cradled in his arms like a little babe, and he rocked back and forth very gently.  He looked down upon her motionless face, then up at the opposite wall.  His silhouette was outlined in the dying winter light.  

He lowered his head, whispering under his breath.

"Dear.... dear Almighty Lord and Father..." he stopped, then moved on, "I need your help.  I – I admit that I am confused.  You're not down here; You don't see what I see everyday.  I've done many evil things; I admit it.  I've seen savagery reflected in the souls of other men.  But, Lord, please don't judge me now.  I have a dying child in my arms, a child I made in sin.... a child who is like a lamb.  I influenced the only wrong she has ever done, and I apologize for that.  I... I want her to live."  Something wet was sliding down his cheek.  This wetness dripped toward the corner of his dry lips; Lupin licked at the salt tears.  "That is all I ask of you.  I promise to amend my ways if you could only grant her life.  Please, Lord... She helped me.  She cannot die."  

His heart shuddered at such emotion; his brain was going numb; he felt like he was breaking down, like he was dying, like he couldn't understand anything at all now except this prayer.  

A tear splashed against the salt-encrusted wood.  

"Amen."

A whiplash of pain raced up his spine.  He yelled, clutching the child to him.  Gasping heavily, he felt the rippling of fur sprouting beneath his skin.  He laid Mary off to the side before another spasm shot through him.

"Remus?"  Sirius cried, alarmed.  

Lupin raised a hand, and suddenly buckled to the floor.  His head hit the ground and he jerked, feeling the tail shoot out the end of his vertebrae.  The fur was growing - his shoulders becoming massive and hairy - his ears moving along the sides of his head - the muzzle sprouting from his face-

His eye rolled up toward the door.  The giant crest of the full moon was seen on the horizon, its rays glowing against the sand.  He tried to speak, his voice contorted into a half-human growl.

"Change, Sirius!" were the grumbled words.  "Change-!"

A long howl unleashed into the newborn night.

***

Croaker looked down at the city from his place in the sky, patrolling on broomstick.  He had been waiting for this moment, the night of the full moon.  Not since his days taming dragons with the RMC had he felt this same exhilaration run through him.  Out there in the darkness were a werewolf and his pup, capable of mass destruction, even death.  His heart pounded in his chest at the thought of fighting them.  

On his back, he slung a weapon that had the appearance of a collapsible sniper rifle.  But this was no mere Muggle gun.  This was taken from the Werewolf Capture Unit of the RMC - a wolfsbane tranquilizer gun.  Each syringe-like shot contained raw wolfsbane, the only substance that could subdue the creature.  

Tonight would be a hunter's dream safari, a thrilling life-or-death battle.  He couldn't wait until he confronted those wolves.  Croaker wanted to kill them on his own; he wanted to pack them full of wolfsbane until they dropped dead and flaunt their pelts to Fudge the next day.   Maybe he could even use the wolf's head as a trophy to hang on his office wall.  Stuffed it and charm it so the head would growl at any unsuspecting passerby.  Ohh, that would be an envious prize!

"Oooowwwwwwwwwwwwwllllll!!!"

The werewolf howl again.

Croaker raced toward the earth.

***

There was a set of wooden steps that extended from the street to the beach.  Long tufts of grass grew around the area, and were mostly beaten down by the weather.  Kevin sat on these steps.

His wife found him there watching the moonrise.  Spotting him there, she sat down herself, arms wrapped around her.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hello," he greeted back.

Both stared at the pure glow of the moon.  "It's only reflected light from the sun," Janet pointed out gently.  "Nothing special about it."

He replied, "Well... on nights like this, when it's so cold and clear, don't you think it can be magical?"

Janet sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but another sound cut her off.

"Oooowwwwwwwwwwwwwllllll!!!"

She stiffened.  "What was that?"

Kevin turned his head.  "It seems to be coming from down there..." He got up to his feet and descended the steps.

"It's - it's a neighbor's dog!"  Janet reasoned.  "You know how they bark at night-"

He reached the sand and stopped to listen.

"Oooooowwwwwwwwwwllll!!"

"That's no dog," he said, and followed the howl.

"Kevin!"  Janet scrambled to her feet.  A spark of fear went through her, though she didn't know why.

"Kevin, stop this werewolf nonsense right this instance!" she shouted angrily, marching through the dunes toward him. "I want you to come with me back inside and forget about all this..!  Are you listening to me?"  Janet hurried her pace.  Her eyes searched through the withering sea grass.  "Where are you?"

She made it past the dunes and onto the beach itself.  Kevin was standing there, stock-still.  She stomped up to him.  "Why are you sta-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh..."  Kevin quickly pulled her to him and put a hand over her mouth.  "Don't speak."

"Wmf-?"  

He pointed ahead of him.  She lifted her eyes and froze.

Off in the distance, where the waves lapped against the shore, three low figures splashed about in the water.  Despite the freezing temperatures, they moved about with powerful speed and agility.  One was large and shaggy, one was huge and clean cut, and the third was a small thing that rolled around in the frothy surf.  The thrown water sparkled like glistening gems around them, catching in the adults' dark fur.  The little one was like light itself, a playful burst of energy that scurried about on awkward puppy paws.

"They're wolves," she whispered.

For a long time, they watched the trio frolic in the waves.  The clean-cut wolf, a large brown-gray hunter, kept going farther and farther out into the sea.  It was as if he wanted to live in the ocean, as if he wanted to swim so far and so deep that he became part of the water itself.  Strange to think that wolves can connect with the sea.

Watching them at play, careless, joyful, Janet felt something crumble within her.  Her husband was right.  A bitter lump rose up in her throat as her very soul caved in.

"No..." she moaned grievously.  "No...." She put her face in her hands, trembling.

"Dear..?"  Kevin held her tighter.  He had a calm tranquility about him, as if his questions were finally answered.  "Go inside," he coaxed.

Janet sniffed, her vision blurring.  She blinked twice, wiping her eyes with a gloved hand.  Her tears crystallized on her face.  "No, no, no, no, no!" she wept.  "It can't – just can't!"  All the stifled anguish that she kept locked up in her heart flooded out in a wave of mourning.  A strangled sob came from her throat.  "No, Kevin, no…" 

Her knees went weak and she slipped.  Kevin held her by the arms to keep her from falling.  Janet, confused and grieving, beat her fists weakly against his chest.  "Can't… Oh God…"  

"Shhhh…" Kevin lifted her to her feet.  "No more," he murmured.  "No more…"

Janet got a hold of herself.  Turning around to face the wolves again, she felt a rage burn in her breast.  Damn them.  She could see it all in her mind as vivid flashes.  They tore her limb, for limb, didn't they?  Her daughter screaming.  Blood flying.  The wolves tearing at her flesh-  "Monsters..!!" she yelled.  "Monsters!"

"Janet-" Kevin started, restraining her arms.

She fought his grip, wailing.  "Y-you monsters!  Animals!  You killed my daughter!  YOU KILLED HER!!"  She kicked sand into the air with her boots, screaming with mourning and fury.  

The yelling caught their attention.  They froze, ears cocked.  The hunter turned his great head and saw them.  He stepped out of the water and shook out his thick fur.  

The black one sensed what the hunter was going to do and tugged at his tail with his teeth, trying to distract him.  The hunter brushed the other one off and gave an authoritative turn of his head.  He barked; the little one scurried up to her feet.  

Kevin shook his wife by the shoulders.  "Control yourself!" he said.  "Go back to the house."

"I won't!" she fired back.  "They killed her!  How can you let them live-!?" She reached down to scoop a small rock from the sand and threw it in their direction.

"Go back," he ordered.  "Now."

The hunter stepped forward, a low growl rumbling from the back of his throat.  The black one moved in front of him, matching his snarl.  Hunter moved and black intercepted.  The two crashed together and tumbled on the ground, biting and kicking.  The little golden pup watched the two with youth's fascination.  The hunter was barking at her- she stumbled back a few steps- he snapped at her, fighting the black one-

The pup stared straight at them and dashed through the sand, barking madly.

"Run!" Kevin pushed her toward the street.  The pup closed in on him; he ran ahead; she sprung from the ground, jaws bared; she crashed into his back, knocking him to the ground.  Her needle teeth tore into his coat, ripping the clothing until the flesh was exposed-

"Rowf! Rowf!" 

A black blur- 

The pup was knocked off his back.  Kevin looked over his shoulder.  He wasn't a wolf, but a dog, a gigantic black dog subduing the pup-

The hunter gave a howl of rage, turning against the dog.  He charged in from the surf and jumped him.  He beat him to the ground, biting and snapping-

The pup was free.  She ran at him again.  Kevin grabbed a branch of driftwood that was sticking out of the sand and swung it at her.  

Wham!

He caught her in the side of the head; her body flew across the air a few feet before plowing into the sand.

"Rooooaaarrr!"  The hunter was overtaking the black dog, pushing out of the way to help his pup.

The hunter gave a vicious swipe of his claws- 

The black dog hit the sand, bleeding-

His ally gone, Kevin faced the wolf alone.

"Stay back," he said hesitantly, holding the piece of wood with both hands.  The hunter eyed him silently, his fangs bared.  The two stood ready to fight.

And it happened so fast.  The hunter leapt up into the air – Kevin held the driftwood horizontally across his chest – the wolf landed on top of him- the weight knock the breath out of him-

"Roarrr!" 

He was snapping his jaws in his face, held back by only the splintering wood.  All Kevin could see were long yellowed teeth and fierce hazel eyes-

_Zzzzzzzziiip!  Zzzzzzip!  Zzzzzip!_

The wolf buckled and collapsed on top of him.  Three terrible-looking hypodermic needles stuck out of his back-

A shadowed figure from the sky zoomed through the air, firing from what looked like a rifle. 

_Zzzzipp!  Zzzipp!_

More shots.  Kevin pushed the wolf off him; he scrambled to his feet, looking up bewilderedly- 

"Get out!" yelled the stranger on the broomstick.

Another surprise.  "Mr. Hammond?"

The black dog let out a whine, raising its head.  He looked up at the flying stranger and jumped to its feet, barking.  The hunting wolf fell and the black dog rushed over, pulling the tranquilizer needles out of his side with his teeth.

Which side was this dog on??

_Wwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiirrrrrr!!!  Wwwwwwwhhhhhhhiiiirrrrrr!!_

Sirens.  The police.

Up above, the broomstick rider flew away into the sky and completely vanished.  Kevin rubbed his eyes.  Gone.

The black dog raised his head quickly, then pulled the last needle out of the wolf's back.  He barked and went over to the fallen pup.  Tucking his head beneath her, he managed to lift her up and slide the pup onto his back.  

"Rowf!"  He gestured with his head toward the hunter.  The wolf shook his head groggily, groaning.  

Kevin stared at the wolf, at the black dog, and then at the pup.  Something jumpstarted inside of him and instantly, he knew.  He knew that pup!  It was she!  His daughter!  He ran over to the drugged beast.  The animal couldn't get away!

"No!" he cried, grabbing the hunter by the scruffy fur on the back of his neck.  He tried pulling the wolf up – the beast weighed twice as much as him – and fell back.  The wolf was foaming at the mouth, groaning sickly, and rolling its eyes.  Its spittle dribbled onto his coat.  Kevin pulled the beast to him with amazing strength.  

"You did it!" Kevin said to the animal's face, nose pressed against muzzle.  "You did it!"  He tried shaking the wolf, but only succeeded in tiring his arms.  "Change her back!" he ordered.  "Change her back, you monster, change her back-"

"Grrrrrrr…!" 

Kevin felt a person's hand clasp his shoulder and push him backwards into the sand.  He looked up and saw not Mr. Hammond or his wife nor a police officer, but a wild-looking man in gray robes.  He had the golden pup slung over his shoulder, balancing the weight with his left hand.  Kevin stared up mutely, his mouth hanging open.  That man was the black dog!

"Don't," the man growled, his voice more savage than the hunter's howl.  "Don't.  Tell.  Anyone."  

And then he became the huge black dog again with the pup on his back.  He was pushing against the hunter wolf, trying to get him up onto his feet.  The wolf managed to rise and the black dog urged him to move.  Once on his feet, the wolf teetered awkwardly, and began to run.  The two animals ran down the beach: the black dog at a sprint; the wolf, tripping, tumbling, then finally picking up speed.  Kevin watched, spellbound, as the two figures were becoming smaller and smaller then disappeared into the distance.

From the street flashing lights were seen as a patrol car pulled up.  An officer had stepped out and was calling down to him.

"Sir, are you all right?"

Kevin staggered to his feet and met the officer's astonished expression.  He answered by doing what any logical person would do: he fainted dead away.

***

Sirius was galloping frantically through the surf.  The pup was slung over his back like a bag of flour, her paws dragging across the sand.  Behind them ran the wolf.  In earlier times, Sirius would have called him Moony, but he knew that calling this creature by a familiar name was impossible.  He was not Moony or Remus or anything that could be named; he was only the hunter, the wolf.

And right now, the wolf was drugged and mad like hell.

"Woof!  Woof!" the creature barked.  He stopped running and stood there, swaying drunkenly, snarling at the skies.

Oh damn!  They had to get moving!  Sirius ran up to him and pulled on the thick fur with his jaws, trying to spur the animal into moving again.  Stupid wolf, thinks he could take an army while he's stoned-

It wasn't working.

"Woof!"  The wolf tripped over its own front paws and slouched against Sirius' side.  Sirius fell back against the weight, his paws sinking into the damp sand.  Mary toppled off his back into the shallow water.  Not good. 

_Zzziiippp!  Zzzziiippp!_

Croaker swooped down again.

Even worse.

"Oooowwww!" the wolf bayed.  His mouth foamed freely now and his coat was damp with seawater and sweat.  He flopped forward, a sopping mess of fur and teeth, then dropped into the sand senseless.

Croaker jumped off his broom and landed, cat-like, onto the sand.  He had the tranquilizer gun propped on his shoulder and was steadily shooting a stream of darts at them.  The air buzzed as they whizzed through the air.  Sirius sprang in front of the wolf, protecting him.

_Zzziiippp!  Zzziiippp!  Zzziippp!  Zzzziiipp!_

Sirius felt the sharp needle pricks through his shoulder, his back.  He groaned and shook his furry head, trying to get them off.  His paws went out from under him and he joined his friends in the sand.

Triumphant, Croaker pulled out a length of rope from his robes.  He crouched down to tie their paws up.  He reached down to take Sirius' paws-

 Sirius attacked, clamping his jaws on the Unspeakable's arm.

"Owwwww!"  Croaker cried out.  He shook his trapped arm wildly, but Sirius held on.  He saw Croaker go for his belt - a fearsome dagger was drawn-

Sirius let go.  The needles stuck out grotesquely from his fur, but he was unharmed.  Apparently, they only affected werewolves.  He crouched down, a deep growl rumbling from the back of his throat.

Croaker clasped his bleeding arm, shooting a murderous glance at the dog.  He backed away and picked up the gun, draping its belt over his shoulder.   Sirius waited for him to make the first move.  His mind was a whirl; all he could think of was ripping that bastard's throat out.  If he had hands then, he would have given Croaker the finger.

From behind the Unspeakable, a shadow flew in the air.  Sirius spotted it and his heart jumped.  It couldn't be- wait, it was, thank God, finally-!

A hippogriff's battle cry trumpeted through the air.

"Tttssseeerrrrrr!"

Croaker barely had a chance to glance behind him before Buckbeak slammed him into the ground with his front paws.  A swift kick to the head and Croaker was out for the count.

Instantly, Sirius was his human self again, laughing like a maniac.  Heedless of the two-inch darts piercing his skin, he jumped up and slapped the hippogriff on the flanks.  "Dammit, did I ever tell you how much I love you??" he whooped.  Buckbeak tossed his head back and squawked loudly in return.

"No, I love you, Rem!" Sirius grabbed the wolf and yanked the last needle out of his back.  "Can you hear me?  It was your idea to let Buckbeak watch over us!  Ha ha!"  He then kicked the hippogriff in his scaly knee.  "Now what took you so long??" 

Buckbeak only clucked his tongue at him disdainfully.  

Sirius sighed.  "Never mind.  Let's just get the hell out of here before Croaker wakes."  Carefully, he loaded the two incapacitated wolves onto Buckbeak's back.  He went to mount himself, but Buckbeak shifted away.  "Hey, get over here!"

Buckbeak glared at him with one orange eye.

"Fine," he admitted roughly.  "I owe you.  Again."

"Craw!" the hippogriff confirmed with satisfaction, kneeling down so Sirius could climb on.  He checked to make sure the wolves wouldn't fall off before Buckbeak launched into the air.   Plucking the darts out of his shoulders, he wincing at the pain.  "What is this?" A wicked thought popped in his head.  "Fly lower, old boy!"

Buckbeak glided down along the beach.  Sirius took the four darts in his hand and carefully aimed-

_Fwapp!_  They landed exactly where he wanted them.  

Yes!  Sirius grinned, the remnants of a schoolboy's mischievousness glinting in his eye.  That was for shooting them with the tranquilizer gun!  He chuckled and goaded Buckbeak to fly higher thinking, _Croaker is going to feel **that** in the morning!_    

Chapter 38

Where was he?  Lupin surveyed his surroundings.  Forest.  Endless forest.  He was sitting on a red-and-white checkered blanket.  It was nighttime, but a Muggle lantern was hanging from a tree branch above him.  Little fireflies hovered around its luminescent glow.

He saw that the blanket he was set up for an outdoor picnic.  There were cups, plates, and napkins strewn about.  The cups were filled with a black substance, and there was no food except for a giant silver dish covered with raw bloody strips of meat.

Across from him sat Mary in her little green jumper.  She leaned over and grabbed a long, thin strip from the serving plate and stuffed it in her mouth.

"Mary…" a stern voice said next to him.

Lupin turned his head.  It was Claire, dressed in that lovely mint dress.  She was beautiful, looking exactly how she did when he took her out to the film festival.  In her hands were an elegant knife and fork.  She tapped Mary's arm with the hand holding the fork.

"I told you not to eat wiz your hands," she said.  "It is not proper of us."

"But Mama…" Mary protested, her mouth full.

What was going on?  Last thing Lupin remembered, he was transforming…. The night of the full moon…

"Non, I will show you."  She put her fork into the pile and picked up a dripping red piece.  Putting it on her plate she quickly cut it up with the knife and fork.  "See?" she said.  "We 'ave to give a good impression."

"But I'm tired of pretending," she said.  "Why can't we stop?"

"Ask your father. 'E is ze expert."

"Papa?" Mary looked at him.  "Why do we have to keep pretending?  Why can't we act like who we really are?"

What did they call him?  Father?  He was her father?  Lupin didn't understand; he was so confused.  He was supposed to be a wolf, not having a meal outdoors!  From the darkness, he heard the rustle of cattails and long grass.  A familiar stench came to his nose.  The fetid smell of rotting vegetation and vomit and fresh blood…

Swampland? Was he near Hogsmeade?  The swamp at night… The stirring of the cattails… Lycaos lurking in the grass… Father and his silver arrows… 

"Well, I…" His throat was going dry.  "I don't know," he replied.  "Who do you think you are anyway?"

"I'm like you, Papa!"  And Mary plunged her little bloody hands into the dish again to grab another piece.  She lifted it up to her mouth and slurped it down.  Crimson splattered all down the front of her jumper.

"Mary!" Claire reproached.  "You are getting yourself all dirty…"

Suddenly, the scene was turning dark…. Mary was trying to wipe off her clothes with a red handkerchief.  Claire grabbed Lupin's arm and whispered into his ear, "Remember your promise…"

Lupin reached over with a napkin, trying to wipe the mess dribbling down Mary's chin.  She was fading away… His head began hurting, he couldn't see….

"Remus……?"  

He opened his eyes… The world was swirling around him…. Bright light…. He squinted his eyes.  The pounding in his head grew worse…. His body ached, throbbing with a dull pain….  

Sirius was staring down at him, his face fuzzy and unclear.  He could feel the sweat running down his face.  Gasping for breath, a sharp pain twitched in his chest.  He gasped out loud, letting his eyes roll back…

Something wet and cool was placed on his forehead.  Lupin closed his eyes, and saw the red inside of his eyelids.  Out of all things, he felt the need to vomit.

"Where….?" He murmured.

"You're safe now," Sirius told him.  His voice echoed in his ears.  "Sleep…."

The light was diminishing…. The world dissolved again and he drifted off into darkness…

***

Croaker was angry with himself.  Letting the wolf slip from his grasp - again!  He pushed his way through the crowded London streets.  It was hard enough for him to move already – his arm was in a sling and he had an awkward limp.  In the middle of the night, he had woken up on the beach to find several tranquilizer darts jammed into the most sensitive of places.  Most likely he wouldn't be able to sit properly for a week.

To add insult to injury, Croaker couldn't find that wolf after the attack.  Lupin had an ally - some dog that he wasn't familiar with.  Was it a were-dog?  A hybrid?  A stray that the wolf befriended?  He didn't know, but whoever or whatever that creature was, it helped Lupin get away.  They must have been hiding out in the parks or alleyways or somewhere… Croaker searched all night but couldn't find a trace.

And now he didn't have another chance.  The RMC would be stoked into going down to Brighton themselves, leaving Croaker with an unresolved grudge.  Already the full moon escapade hit the Muggle papers; the story reached the Evening Prophet the night before.  The wizard headline said this: "Wolf Strikes Again in Brighton: Attacks Muggle Couple."  He was on his way to the Registry right now, hoping to have a word with Parsons.  About what exactly he didn't know; maybe thank him for loaning the gun, however useless that turned out to be.  Basically, all he wanted to blow off some steam at someone.  He elbowed his way past a young couple, hearing their insulted remarks behind him.

"Watch it!"

"Jerk!"

Damn Muggles.  Croaker wanted to go back and get that information from Kevin Grisham.  Yet how could he?  There was too much publicity going about already.  It was already common knowledge now that Grisham thought a werewolf attacked his daughter.  No one believed him of course, but no wizard can put a Memory Charm on him now.  He saw too much and the town knows of it.  If he were to suddenly deny recalling anything, too much confusion would ensue.  Most likely, the Ministry would leave his memory alone and he would keep quiet when he realizes others view him insane.  A similar case happened during the Ilfracombe Incident of 1932, when a Welsh Green attacked a group of sun-bathing Muggles.  A few residents escaped without having their memories modified, but that did not have any long-term effects.  Those surviving witness (including one nicknamed "Dodgy Dirk") were viewed as harmless loonies. 

He came to a large, plain-front building and stepped through the front doors.  The lobby was empty and colorless, with only an unadorned front desk by a set of elevators.  Behind the counter, a lady was using a computer.

"Hey, Beatrice," he said.

She looked up.  "Croaker!" she greeted.  "Go right ahead."

"Thanks."  He walked past her to the elevators.  Glancing back, he saw that she was playing Solitaire.

This lobby held no purpose other than being a little-used access way to the Ministry building.  Any Muggles who wandered in here by accident were turned back.  Croaker resorted to using the front entrance only because he still needed to get a new wand and couldn't Apparate his way in.

The third elevator door to his left opened at his approach.  There was no actual elevator inside, only the shaft leading down.  Without a second glance, Croaker stepped in and fell.

"The Registry," he said casually as he plummeted to the bottom.  Suddenly, a glittering swirl surrounded him and shot him upwards three levels.  He was dressed in a slightly rumpled Muggle suit and so didn't have to worry about his robes flapping about.  Halting in front of another set of metal doors, Croaker checked his watch and adjusted his tie before the doors slid open.

The Registry of Magical Creatures was in a frenzy.  Officers were running to and fro; secretaries were answering conference mirrors; interns and lackeys were dashing about with tea and files.  The mail boy had his hands full, trying to sort the mail on his cart as owls dashed in and out of the window.  Out of his hands a smoking red envelope dropped and hit the floor.

"Look out!" he cried, covering his head.

The red enveloped snapped open, and a deep, bear-like voice bellowed:

"C'EST BERNARD NICHOLAS BISCLAVRET LE TROISIÉME, LE MÂLE D'ALPHA DU CHIEN-LOUP!  JE NE SUIS PAS HEUREUX DU TRAITEMENT DE MA SOEUR DANS VOTRE PAYS!"

Workers and officers all bowed down their heads and covered their ears from the blare.  Papers fluttered off desks and pointed hats flew off heads as the Howler went on.  Croaker put his hands over his throbbing eardrums.  

_"_EN FAIT, JE SUIS AINSI MALHEUREUX QUANT AU FICHIER UNE PLAINTE CONTRE VOTRE GOUVERNEMENT!!  POUVEZ-VOUS DIRE LE PROCÈS INTERNATIONAL!? JE CROIS QUE VOUS POUVEZ!"

Croaker made his way through the havoc, stopping outside of Parsons' office door.  He barged in – he never knocked – only to find the room empty.  He wasn't surprised.  The agent must be somewhere.  Stepping out of the room, he flagged down the nearest person, a flustered-looking file clerk with an arm full of papers.

**"PROCÈS!!"**

"Where's Agent Parsons?" he demanded loudly, grabbing the boy's uniform front.

"Um… dungeons, I think," he spluttered, his hat toppling off his head.

**"P-R-O-C-E-S! ET UN ACCENT AU-DESSUS DU E!"**

"Humf!"  Croaker made his way down the twisting hallways until he got to the jail ward.  Far from the RMC, the Howler's roar had dimmed down to a dull background rumble.  Yet the noise only added to his irritated mood.  He shouted to the guard on duty, "Get me to the dungeon!"

The guard, flustered, almost dropped his tea. "Okay, sir!" he said, jumping from his post and racing to unlock the dungeon door.  Soon, Croaker made his way down to the bowels of the Ministry.  Here, too, was full of wizards.  Three were huddled in front of a closed cell.  A guard opened the door and two of the wizards stepped in.  Some loud shouts were heard and they came out again, dragging Ianikit.  The werewolf was cursing and kicking.

"Murderers! Bastards!"  

Ianikit wasn't the only one shouting.  Inside the whitewashed room, he could see Parsons rigidly standing, arms at his side.  An older, gray-haired man with a potbelly and a cigar circled him like a vulture, yelling at the top of his lungs. He was fuming, and the cigar smoke and ash added his raging appearance.  His exact words were indistinguishable through the walls, but the sheer volume was not.       

"Someone's getting his ass chewed off," he observed to himself smugly.  Well, even if he failed in his mission, Croaker was glad that he wasn't going to get a beat down from his superior.

"And ya call me a monster!"  Ianikit was shouting.  He faced Croaker, the closest one standing.  "Look in the mirror, wizard!" he raved.  "There's somethin' dark inside ya too!  Somethin' that comes out more often than every full moon!"   

One of the wizards shot him with a Stupefy Spell, and he slumped between the their hold, unconscious.  Croaker watched as they carried him up the stairway.  Another one to be locked up in The Kennel.

At a second cell, a Squib janitor stepped out holding a bloody mop and soap bucket.  Croaker, wondering, peeked inside the cell only to see it empty and spotless.  Nearby, a plump Asian woman was advising the other wizards in clearing out the cells.  He recognized her as an MLES officer by her uniform.  "What's going on?" he asked. "The Registry's a mess."

"It's been a rush all morning," she said, biting her lip worriedly.  "The French Ministry of Magic is very upset, especially their Department for the Regulation of Non-Wizard, Part-Human Creatures.  They want the International Council of Wizards to investigate the RMC.  Something happened to a very prominent wolf and now her whole clan's raving; they're demanding an international lawsuit."

Croaker was amazed.  "Is that even possible?"

"If the investigation turns up something against the Registry, the French Ministry could demand reparations on behalf of the clan."

What kind of country would do that for wolves?  Well, France was always the mandrake-hugging, save-the-unicorns, type of government.  If they hadn't banned werewolf immigration into their country, the British RMC – or the world even - might not have any wolf problems at all.  

The MLES officer continued.  "Last night during the full moon, Parsons confronted Madame de Chien-Loup. A LOCD. No one's really sure whether he didn't give her the Wolfsbane Potion or if she refused it, but she didn't take it when the moon rose."  She shook her head sadly.  "There was a big commotion after the transformations – the wolf threw herself at him – and he locked her in.  The cell wasn't appropriately modified for her condition and…." She threw up her hands, as if that summed up the explanation.

Stupid beast.  "What became of her?" 

"Her brother called in early this morning and requested to take her back to France.  They Apparated her over with special permission.  I don't know what her current medical status is…." she paused.  "Madame de Chien-Loup had been acting strangely the day before the full moon…"

Now informed, Croaker began to lose interest.  His anger had died away from ember to ash.  Besides, Parsons was already getting whipped, much to Croaker's joy, and even darker consequences were awaiting him.  The agent always had been an annoyance to him anyway.  Parsons, always strutting about, never giving higher officers like Croaker the proper respect.  On the other hand, Croaker wasn't going to lose his job.  Fudge would always need his undercover right hand man.  "Well, if Roger gets sent to the Centaur Office, it's his own fault."  He snorted.  "Always knew he'd get in trouble sometime…"

***

He was somewhere else now.  Lupin looked around.  Everything was colored in shades of gray.  The sky, the houses, the street, the trees, the grass.  The road beneath him was black.  The windows were translucent silver.  Above, the sun cast down pale white rays.

He turned around.  The Safehouse was white, like it just had a fresh coat of paint.  The gate was swung open.  Someone was sitting on the steps.  Lupin noticed that person had bright red hair.  He walked over.

"Toby?"

"Long time, no see," he greeted, descending from a ladder.  He was wearing granite gray overalls over an iron gray shirt.  Steel gray boots covered his feet.  His face and hands were ashen and his eyes had silver retinas.  Only his hair retained its same red-gold hue.  At his feet were some cans of white paint and several brushes.

Lupin sat down.  "What am I doing here?"

"Well, I was painting."  Toby gestured behind him at the Safehouse.  "Looks brand-new, doesn't it?"

"Where is everyone?"

"I dunno."  Toby shrugged. He sat down on the front steps.   "You're the first person I've seen in weeks."

"Weeks?"  Lupin said, startled.  "And you've been painting… all by yourself…?"

"For weeks and weeks." He smiled.  "Nice to see a face now."

He couldn't comprehend why he was so happy.  "You don't know where everyone else is?"

"I know they're somewhere."  Toby put his hands on his knees.  "My parents died a long time ago, you know," he said.

"Really?"

"Don't remember them much.  I was made into a ward of the state and put in an orphanage with all of those other kids nobody wanted.  They have a saying there: that once you hit thirteen, nobody really wants you."

His words sounded familiar.  Lupin swiftly remembered.  He had told Kevin a similar story!  So… so this world… Lupin cast an eye around.  This was a dream!  This wasn't the real Toby speaking to him but a figment of his imagination!  Lupin remembered the night picnic.  That was a dream too.  He calmed down.  Now that he got a grip on this reality, he played along.

"That must be horrible," he said.

"It was."  Toby ran a hand through his red hair.  "I was locked up with all the vampies and half-giants and what not.  I was alone for a long time.  Finally, I got sick of it all and ran away from the home."

"Where did you go from there?"  Lupin wondered if Toby was going to say what he thought he'd say.

He did.  "I joined up with the Freedom Hounds."

"Joined the Freedom Hounds?"

"Ulysses found me sleeping at a shelter.  He's like a father to me."

"Why not Jarohnen?"

"Well… he's more like an eccentric uncle than a father."

 "Oh."  Go figure. Even though this was all a dream, Toby's story here sounded very plausible to real life.  If Lupin ever saw him again, he'd be sure to ask.  "Isn't it…" Lupin tried to phrase the question right.  "Without everyone else…" He was uncomfortable with talking about anything that directly related to him emotionally.

"Am I lonely?" Toby ended for him.  Obviously he'd know what Lupin was talking about; he was only a part of a dream after all.

"Yes." Lupin attempted to steer the subject off so he didn't feel so relevant to it. "Being here all by yourself all the time-"

"Nah."  Toby dismissed with a wave of his hand.  

This was certainly turning into an odd conversation.  He asked curiously, "Why?"

"Hey, it's not like I hate them.  They're my family.  And I know that as long as they're out there somewhere, I'm not alone.  I have faith that they're somewhere….  It's weird, but you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes…." Lupin said attentively.  "I suppose I do…"

He got up and started walking toward the street.  What strange dreams he was having.  First a picnic in the forest and now this…

"Where are you going?" Toby called.

"I don't know.  I need to find out."

"Okay."  Toby picked up his brush.  "Better get back to work.  See you around, Remus."

Thinking of a final question, Lupin stopped.  "Toby?"

"Yeah?"

"What if something unfortunate befell them, and you never knew…?"

A laugh. "You don't get it, do you?"  Toby turned back around.  "The thought's stronger than reality."

At those words, Lupin felt himself sinking.  The ground tore away beneath his feet - he was falling, floating through nothingness...  The dream was fading, and he was floating down into an abyss… an abyss of light…

He blinked.  Colors.   Swirling colors.  He put a hand to his head.  Vertigo, spinning…. He groaned and sat up.  Big mistake – his surroundings broke up and tossed and turned like the glass pieces in a kaleidoscope.  He shut his eyes for a few minutes and opened them again.  This vision steadied itself; he could see that he was in his bedroom at Her Majesty.  A shaded lamp was in the far corner, casting dim light and dark shadows.  

Those dreams….  He shook his head.  Lupin never believed in predicting the future using dreams or any of that insubstantial divination, but he wouldn't deny that they had a certain meaning.  Being one to muse often, he laid back and shut his eyes again.

Vague pictures and phrases kept running through his head… Mary with her hands covered in blood… the swamp with the rustling cattails,  "I'm like you, Papa!" Walking through London, shades of gray, Toby with the paint bucket… "You don't get it, do you?"

Glancing around the room, he saw his briefcase open on the bed stand, next to a pitcher of water and a glass tumbler.  He reached over and took a book from the case: his yellowed book on lycanthropy.  Leafing through its contents, he stumbled upon the one with the Damnation passage.  He had copied that from an old textbook years and years ago.  Slowly, he traced the words with his fingers, and then turned the page.  Written there was a lengthy piece, scribbled in a nine-year old's chicken scrawl.

Murphy and me met up with a widower today.  I think her name is Sandra.  She said that she used to be an Auror when she was younger.  Her house smelled funny.  She had a cane too, and she hit the cane on the floor every time she talked.  She was telling us that she used to work for the Registry of Magical Creatures.  I just found out my number from there other day.  It's 4765.  She said that she used to live in Romania and killed off all the werewolves there.  There was a big silver sword hanging over the fireplace and she would point to it a lot and say, "And yup, I chopped their heads off when I was done, huzza, huzza!"  And she would bang her cane against the floor.  She sounded real proud of herself, but after a while I asked Murphy if we could leave.  I think I got sick because her house stunk so much.  She's better than the other people we've met, but I still don't like her. 

The only good thing she told us that I need to write down is that a werewolf can't hurt any of the people he's bitten because after they've been bitted, their souls are connected together.  She said that if the wolf hurt any of his pups (the people he's bitted) he would be hurting himself in the same way at the same time.  I'm glad because then I might stop having nightmares about the swamp and Lycaos attacking me again.  

Thoughtfully, Lupin flipped the page.  The next message was a much shorter one, written so hastily that it was barely legible. Large wrinkled drops dotted the page and in some spots, the ink was smudged.  Lupin wondered why and then he remembered: he had been crying when he wrote this.

I'm so mad!!!!!!! Today me and Murphy saw someone and when he asked about werewolf cures the man said that he knew one and that was to be shot in the heart with something that was silver by your true love.  I wanted Murphy to shoot me with an arrow, but then he got really mad and he said that if Father was still alive he would never, ever allow it and I'm so mad that he wouldn't shoot me because I thought he knew I hated being a werewolf and it ain't fair and I hate being a werewolf and I wanted a cure and I think that Murphy doesn't really love me at all and that I'm just his Master's son and if he really did like me even a little tiny bit he would try just once and it just ain't fair and I think he's just a stupid old fat Squib!  It ain't fair and I think he doesn't love me and he's only loyal to Father and doesn't really care about me and he's just a STUPID, STUPID SQUIB!!!

Lupin slammed the book shut.  Old memories cut deep.  It wasn't old Murphy's fault, he was sure.  He was just father's loyal manservant, and he really did care for him…

An idea formulated in his head at that moment.  Whether it was an urge prompted by his dreams, the book, or something else Lupin wasn't sure.  But he knew what he had to do.  He had to leave… 

"Remember your promise…"

Lupin gripped the bed stand and painfully sat up again.  Three sharp stabs at his back.  He cried out and dropped onto the bed again.  What was that?  With a tentative hand, he reached over and slipped his hand beneath his robes.  With clammy fingers, he outlined three huge welts…. 

He gasped and jerked his hand back.  Where did he get those??  His hands were clammy.  He wiped the sweat off his palms on his blanket, shuddering.  Time to get up, Remus…. 

Lupin pushed his legs off the bed - they felt like jelly – and rose up-

His legs wouldn't hold – he slipped, grabbing onto the sliding blanket- 

Sirius appeared at the doorway and caught Lupin by the crook of the elbow just before he hit the floor.  "Rem!" he cried.  "Get back into bed." 

Lupin shook his head no.  "Can't," he said weakly.  "Have to… Have to…"

"Have to get some rest," Sirius finished.  "You got pretty knocked up during the full moon."

"Mary…?" He moved to get up again. 

"Asleep."  Sirius restrained him gently.  "You have to rest," he said.  

"There's…" Lupin gestured toward his back. The three wounds.

Sirius frowned.  "That Unspeakable you mentioned – Croaker - we ran into him last night.  He shot you in your back with some darts…"

Shots… Croaker…  "Wolfsbane," he suddenly gasped.  "It's… the effects…" 

"You think?"  He was helping his friend back into bed.  "It's best if you tried not to move much."

"I can't…" He tried gathering his thoughts together.  He made a promise; he had to fulfill it.  But not now, not now… Lupin settled himself back into bed.  "Tell me," he said.  His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth.

"Last night?"

"Yes…"

Sirius shifted uncomfortably.  "You were right," he said brightly.  "Mary got better with the full moon.  The bullet came out; the transformation took place without a hitch.  You don't have to worry about her now-"

He was talking too quickly for Lupin's liking.  "But what else?" he prodded.

"I led you out to the ocean."  Sirius tried to act casual in his retelling. "It worked like a charm, exactly how you said before.  Water does have an odd way in calming wolves down.  Remember how, back at Hogwarts, we used to go down to the lake-" Sirius stopped himself.  Lupin knew he was going to mention something about James and Peter, forbidden names to speak of.  Lupin knew he would never say their names consciously.  Something was wrong.  "Well, the ocean worked as a perfect distraction.  The water was freezing, but I suppose, the cold doesn't affect werewolves as much.  We were out all night, until Croaker came and we escaped.  That idea of yours worked well; Buckbeak came in the nick of time."

"You're hiding something from me," Lupin said softly.

Sirius looked up.  "What do you mean?"

"You're lying."

His gaze shifted.  "About what?"

"What else happened?"  He gave a dry, hacking cough; his throat felt parched.

Sirius handed him a tumbler full of water from the bed stand.  "Nothing, we just-"

Lupin coughed again.  He cleared his throat, trying to regain his normal voice. "What else happened?" he pressed, his voice hoarse. "Stop staring at your hands and look at me."

Sirius did.  He knew he couldn't fool him.  "You want to know?"

Lupin took a sip of water.  This was what he needed.  "Yes."

"You… you attacked someone," he said bluntly.

Strangely, he wasn't surprised.  "Who?"

"A couple on the beach.  I should have led you two farther away; I tried to, but the woman, she was screaming at us and that caught your attention-"

"What was she saying?"

"I don't know exactly-"

"You do."  Lupin gripped the edge of the bed stand and sat up, despite the pain.  "Do not lie to me, Sirius.  I have had enough with lying."

"She said you killed their daughter."  Sirius eyed him tensely.  The next question came out carefully, as if he was trying to pull all the pieces together.  "They were Mary's parents, weren't they?"

Lupin turned away.

"Nothing happened," Sirius reassured.  "They weren't hurt.  Croaker spotted us and prevented you from doing any harm."

"Did I attack Kevin?"

"Yes."  Sirius hesitated.  "How do you know?"

Because the wolf felt threatened by him.  Mary couldn't have a human father and a wolf father at the same time.  One must eliminate the other.  Yet Lupin didn't answer aloud.  "We cannot stay here," he said instead.  "The RMC would be coming soon, if not today…." He met Sirius' pale eyes.  "We have to depart.  Immediately."

"Not in your condition-" Sirius protested.

"We have no choice."

He tried another angle.  "Buckbeak can only carry so much weight," he said.  "Even if it was only Mary and I, that's pushing the limit.  Three people is almost impossible for him."

"I will find a way."  Lupin's mind raced.  "I wanted us to go to the mountains up north.  Near Hogwarts so we can keep an eye on Harry."

"I know."  Sirius reached into his pocket and took out a dog-eared letter.  "From Harry.  I just got it this morning."

Of course.  His friend Ron had a pygmy owl Sirius gave him at the beginning of the summer.  Pigwidgeon always knows where to find him; it was a magical tracking talent that was bred into most delivery owls.

"I want you and Buckbeak to leave," he said.

"Now?"  Sirius refused.  "At least wait until tomorrow night."

"We don't have much time."

"Look, how about I'll take us a few towns over," he compromised.  "That way, we'd be far enough from the Registry, but you wouldn't be tired out."

Lupin wanted Sirius to leave.  He couldn't fulfill his promise with him around… "Go find a suitable place," he said.  "I will take care of Mary here."

"You can't even take care of yourself."

"As you just said, we won't be going too far.  I want you to find a secure place to us.  We will figure out the transportation later."

Sirius was feeling uneasy.  He was sensing what Lupin was about to do, wasn't he?  Thankfully, he agreed.  "Okay, Remus," he said, getting up from his seat.  "I'll go.  Just keep the doors locked."

Yes, Sirius. Leave.  He nodded.  "Make sure you're not seen by anyone."

He left the room. 

It was going perfectly.  Like a plan.  Lupin was part of some great plan, it seemed, like some holistic pattern that he wasn't aware of…  

He leaned his head against the headboard.  Downstairs, he could hear Sirius talking to Buckbeak.  Yes, Sirius would be leading the hippogriff out – Lupin could see his friend lifting off – the silent glide of Buckbeak's wings through the air – a little longer and they would be gone….

After a few minutes, he tried getting up again.  This time was met with success.  No dizziness, no vertigo.  Lupin took a few cautious steps.  His legs wobbled beneath him, but he managed.  First he came to the window and looked out.  It was dark.  Nighttime already?  No one would be out….

Turning around, he then left his bedroom and headed to the ground floor.  In the kitchen was a phone.  He shuffled around.  He knew he had seen it somewhere.  Checking the drawers he found what he wanted.  A phone book.  Flipping the pages, he tried recalling the name he saw on the mailbox.   Ford.

Fogg, Fontaine, Forand, Forbes, Forcier. Ford.  Yes, there it was.  He scanned the list.  Several people.  But only one of them was at the address he was looking for.

Lupin picked up the phone and dialed the number.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Finally, someone picked up.  "Hello?"  A woman's voice.

"Hello." he said.  This must either be his wife or his sister.  "Do you know Kevin Grisham?"

"Yes…" the woman trailed off uncertainly.

"Are you his wife?"

"Yes…" The woman sounded even more unsure.  "Who is this?"

"I have to tell you something," he said carefully.  "About your daughter."

She said sharply, "What kind of sick joke are you pulling-?"

"Don't hang up!  Don't hang up!" he said quickly.  "Just listen to me, please.  I'm not trying to do any harm."

No answer.  

"Please?  Mrs. Grisham?" 

Nothing.  Lupin waited.

Very faintly, he could hear breathing on the other end.  Still there.  "What does your husband know?"  Somehow, Kevin knew about werewolves; Lupin was sure.  It was a strange, gut-instinct feeling.  He'd risk his life on it.  

This time, she answered.  "What do you mean?"

"Where is he?  What does he know?"

"He's… he's being checked out at the hospital.  I don't … don't know what you're talking about…" Then it was her turn to ask questions.  "Who are you?  What do you know about our daughter?  If this is some prank call, I'll get the police I swear-"

Lupin simply said, "It's not a joke.  You have to believe me.  If you love your daughter-"

The dial tone.  She had hung up on him.

He quickly re-dialed.  Twenty rings passed with no answer.

Wordlessly, he put down the receiver.  

***

"Remmy, where are we going?"

"Only a brief stroll down the beach."

Lupin looked over his shoulder at the pounding waves.  They were louder tonight than any night before.  A storm was coming.  A glance overhead confirmed this.  The sky wasn't black but a deep, thundering gray.  Storm clouds.

He looked down warmly at her.  Mary's gloved hand was tucked into his; their arms swung together in rhythm with the sea.  In his other hand he held his briefcase.  Lupin had made sure that he left nothing behind at Her Majesty.

"Why are we going to the fisherman's place?" she asked suddenly.

"How did you know?"

"Because it's in that direction."  She pointed ahead.  "Where did Sirius and Buckbeak go again?"

"They just went out on an errand.  Don't worry about them anymore."

Mary glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye for a moment, her childlike perception kicking in.  "Sirius knows that we're gone, right?"

"We wouldn't have left the house if he didn't know."

She pondered this for a moment, but said nothing more on the topic.  Oh, how much she trusted him!

Little time passed when they made it to the hovel.  The door was wide open from when Lupin burst out of there during the full moon.  This place, the inanimate witness to so many things, seemed more than just a rough broken-down shack.  It seemed almost holy.  He ran his hand briefly against the wood.  If these walls could speak…

Lupin sat himself down on the floor, putting his briefcase down next to him.  He felt an eerie calm settle over him.  He tucked his hand in his pocket.  No turning back.   "Sit down.  I have to tell you something."

Mary kneeled down beside him.  He clothed her in white dress that he found near the bottom of his briefcase.  It was a little long for her and highlighted her small size.  She was like a doll, a pretty golden-haired doll… 

"Why are we here?" she questioned timidly.  Her eyes darted to a corner where a torn spider web fluttered in the breeze.

"Because." Lupin paused.  "I cannot stay with you anymore."

"What?" Her eyes left the web.  "What do you mean?"

"I came here to say good-bye."  Lupin couldn't believe his calm exterior.  Why was he acting so gently?  Why wasn't he crying?  

"But you promised!"  Mary gave him a frightened look.  "You promised you wouldn't leave."

"I can't stay."  He smiled, trying to be as sincere as possible.

But the girl began to panic at his words.  "Sirius said you were sick," she said quickly.  "Maybe you're just tired."  She got up to her feet.  "We have to go back home.  We have to go back so you can sleep because you're sick-"

"Hush, child," he said calmly.  "I'll be fine.  Please sit down."

"No!"  Mary clenched her fists then grabbed his arm urgently.  "You're gonna die, are you?" she asked worriedly.

He only answered with another smile.  "Don't be afraid," he told her.  "But you have to listen to me-"

"I wanna go back!"  Mary cried.  "I wanna go back and see Sirius!"

"Shhh…." Lupin pulled her down to the floor and stroked her hair.  Beautiful hair, innocent girl.  "Don't worry, my girl.  Don't worry…"

Mary glanced about uncomfortably, her hands balled into fists.  "You're scaring me, Remmy," she whispered.  She blinked rapidly, her nose turning red.

Tears!  "Don't cry," he said reverently.  "Now, Mary, you won't ever see me again…"

She sniffed and shook her head stubbornly.  "You promised…"

"It's better this way."  Lupin wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders.  "You'll live a better life, and eventually, you'll forget me."  

"Never!" she protested.  "Don't say this, please, don't say this…"

"The RMC will erase your memory if they find you.  But they can't kill you; they have no reason… Your father knows best.  He will find you and take you away from here…"

"Stop it!" she pushed him away.  "Stop it!"

Lupin went on in that same earnest tone.  "And even if they do not change your memory, you'll deny it within yourself.  You wouldn't want to remember."  He reached out for her again.  "You'll never want to remember the werewolf that hurt you."

The first tear fell.  "But… but I have to help you!" she pleaded in a quivering voice.  "You can't leave if I haven't helped you!"

"You have, and that's another thing I wanted to tell you."  He was silent for a few seconds.  "I had been a thief all my life," he confessed quietly.  He gave her a searching look.  "Do you know what a thief is?"

A small nod.  "Someone who steals."

He nodded as well.  "I stole as a child with my friends for fun," he said. "And when I grew older, I stole to survive.  I took food, clothing, money - even houses," he said, thinking of Her Majesty.  "It is the only thing I know how to do well, Mary.  I only know how to take from others."

She was sitting closer now; he put a hand to her cheek and carefully turned her face towards him.   She was trembling under his touch.  

"But I learned that I can't steal happiness," he whispered gravely.  "That is how you helped me.  You taught that theft couldn't grant me a family."

She didn't understand his message, only the sorrow he tried to keep out of his voice.  Mary wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce hug.  "I'm sorry," she wept.  "I'll be your family, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…."

"You were, little lamb, you were," Lupin hugged tightly her with his left arm.

She buried her face in his shoulder.  A muffled sob.  "I love you."

"I know."  He lifted his right hand out of his pocket.

Click.

Mary lifted her head slowly, fearfully, as she felt the metal pressed against her chest, an expression of disbelief on her face.  Lupin gazed solemnly into the eyes of his child.  

"I love you too," he whispered.

The crack of the gunshot was lost amidst the thundering of the waves.

Epilogue

They found her in a beat-up old shack hidden away in a cove on the beach.  A crowd of local college students, unleashed for the holidays, had made their way there to get drunk, light a fire, and make the most of the abandoned hangout.  More than one beer can split upon the sand when they opened the door.

An ambulance was called immediately.  Within fifteen minutes, the noise brought the residents peeping from their houses.  So much commotion within two days – and so near Christmas too!  This brought even the most reclusive to the site.  Sheila Kibitzer was on the scene carrying a tape recorder.  Her next story made it to the national papers.

The medical technicians brought her out on a stretcher that they carried up to the road.  By then, a light drizzle had turned into a steady downpour.  Quite a crowd adorned with umbrellas and rain slickers formed; the police had to put up tape and wooden barricades to hold them back.

A golden-haired man stepped past the barricade when the stretcher approached the ambulance.  "I'm her father," he whispered.  The EMT lifted the sheet to show him.  He stumbled back as if he had been punched.  The stretcher moved on.

These EMTs loaded her onto the ambulance and shut the door.  The police on site waved their hands up in the air as the vehicle drove away, lights flashing, siren screaming.  "Show's over folks!  Go back to your homes!  Nothing more to see here!"

It took quite awhile before the crowd dispersed.  And still, after they had left, the man and his wife stood alone in the street. Afterwards, they would be the first at the hospital to see her again.  Later on, the family would arrange a trip to leave England, never to return.

Down the street, heading toward the highway, the ambulance sped toward Princess Royal Hospital.  Inside, the EMTs worked frantically, trying to save a life.  One of them hooked her up to machines that recorded vital signs.  On a little black screen, a green line showed, beeping rhythmically.  Someone put an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose; she was still breathing.

A technician was cutting off her clothing with surgical scissors, trying to get to the wound itself.  The blood was sticky and wet; it stained their latex gloves.

The ambulance jolted and both EMTs clung onto the siding.  The stretcher jumped.  Loose surgical tools bounced in their trays.

Soon, the area was exposed.  One of them went to apply pressure to the wound.

"Stop!" the other said.  Something glinted in the wound, something that was not heart or bone or muscle.  A person noticed a steel-ball chain necklace hung from her neck.

"Get that off!"

A quick snip! of the scissors - the necklace fell to the ambulance floor.  While one EMT applied the needed pressure to the wound, the other's hand reached down and picked it up.

An amazed shout.  "My God!  Look!"

The technician who picked up the necklace glanced down at the wound.  Eyes widened.

"It's healed over!"

Hushed whispers of amazement.

"A miracle!"

Miracle indeed.  The injury was cleaned with alcohol-soaked cotton.  There was no open flesh, only dried blood.

The technician, astounded, could say nothing.  He stared down at the jewelry in his hand, and then held it up in order to see it better.

A plain chain-ball necklace, slightly rusty.  Its only ornament was a silver cross, shining dully in the artificial light.

End of Sin of Lycaos.

The Lycaos Series will continue with Wolf by Ears.

All comments and constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated.  Thank you for reading.


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